Not a Gryffindor Fight
by SFD
Summary: Noblemen lose battles gloriously. Devious might live to win. If Harry was to fight a Gryffindor Fight,he would have Challenged Voldemort to a public duel, and he would have lost. Luckily this is not a Gryffindor Fight. HPOFC, LLNL, the rest? Canonish
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry sat in his seemingly regular compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

It was curious how people and events tend to repeat themselves with no good reason. Even while trying to change the course of the war— and the course of Wizarding Britain, by the way— he still found himself sitting in the same compartment, on the same red/blue train, with the same friends, going to the same god-forsaken house (no "home" – he must still call it "home" for few more weeks) and his same damned relatives. It was almost as if all human lives, his included, were controlled by a pre-determined ritual. His ritual peaked during the yearly confrontation with Voldemort (no – "Tom") during which one more of his friends would suffer or die in order to enable him to play the ritual one more year.

His friends – he was trying to keep his distance from them since the battle of Hogwarts, maybe even since the Ministry— but they came forward, clear as they could be, and said "no". The crazy fools insisted on keeping him company and risking their lives. First, it was Ron and Hermione who explained plainly to him that he couldn't bear the weight of the world alone and they would be there with him till the end – as usual, if he liked it or not. Then it was Ginny, who seemed to be reasonable for a short while, back at school, but then lost it again and insisted that the fact that he didn't want her to be his girlfriend didn't mean that she wouldn't help his every step until the end of the war, and for as long as he would need the help after that. Finally, there was Luna and Neville. From their point of view, since they didn't have any friends until Harry decided, for no good reason, to befriend them – he was now stuck with them and that's, as they say, that!

Crazy bunch…

This year's train ride was much more quiet than the usual. Starting just at the end of Dumbledore's funeral, there was no running in the passage ways, laughing, or loudly making summer plans with friends. Instead, there were sombre and quiet gathering of friends, sitting together and discussing the coming summer. The safety of their families, the chances that school would, or wouldn't open the next year, and the chances that a good friend would not return to school even if it did open.

Harry almost missed his yearly-scheduled childish confrontation with Draco and Co; they would have insulted Hermione and Ron, Harry and Neville would have held Ron back, Draco would have foretold Harry's soon to come death, Draco would have then been thrown out of the compartment, and they would have been ready to disembark from the train.

The whole "I'm your nemesis" mantra seemed almost laughable now. Harry truly had, and surely still had, bigger fish to fry. It was now clear that Draco tried to define his own importance by comparing himself to Harry. Harry could see now that in ignoring Draco a little longer in the first year he could have put Draco in his place and saved the whole school a lot of trouble in the following years. That was all water under the bridge now; then again, back in his first year, Harry truly thought that the mean and pretentious student was the biggest of his problems.

He wondered what Draco was doing now and whether he had changed his mind regarding his Dark Lord already. He knew that Death Eaters usually suffered many more '_Crucios_' than their innocent victims, and that the Malfoy family was far from being Tom's favourite family, these days.

Meanwhile, aboard the Hogwarts Express, there were undercurrents which divided the students. One current carried students, mostly from the Slytherin house to the front compartments of the train. Another undercurrent carried most of the other middle and upper class students to Harry's compartment, some time during the ride.

"What do you think will happen?", "What are you going to do?" were popular questions.

"You can call me if you need, you know I will help," was a much less popular comment.

He had no answers to those questions and was actually asking the same questions quietly, over and over in his head.

"I am still planning," he said.

"I will call you when plans are in place."

After a while, he was finally left with his five close friends.

"So – what **are** we going to do?" asked Ron. Harry looked at him silently. "You know I'm not the one to do planning and thinking. This is Hermione's and your department."

"Harry," said Hermione softly, "If we wish to survive this war, it can't go on the way it is. You, Ron, I and everybody else will need to change and adapt. You will need to learn how to plan and not only rely on your feelings and instincts. I will have to learn not to rely on authority and to bend some rules. Ron will have to get his red-haired temper under control, and we all need to learn how to talk to each other, work together, and rely on each other. Can we do that?"

Everyone set there in silence.

Finally, it was Luna who spoke out. "You can't let it be a Gryffindor-against-Slytherin yard fight. We need the Wizarding public to understand that this is a war to save everything they hold dear, and we need people from all Hogwarts houses by our side."

"We are not all Gryffindors. We already have you," replied Ron.

"As you know well enough, Ronald, I'm not the one to represent the Ravenclaw house, and you need people from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, too."

"We don't need those Slytherin traitors," protested Ron.

"Ron, this is exactly what Hermione was talking about. Not all Gryffindors are heroes in shining armour, you know. Do you remember your ex-rat? And not all Slytherin are Death eaters, either. Do you think that Ms. Nymphadora Tonks is such a horrible person?"

Ron just stared at his sister in silence.

"Do you think that Susan will help us?" asked Neville, shyly. "She is highly regarded by the Hufflepuffs. She's a prefect and might be the Head Girl next year," he added. "Sorry, Hermione," he said after another thought.

"Oh hush," said Hermione. "I'll probably not even go back to school next year and there are much more important things than school prestige on our plate, now. Can you go and ask her here? Ask her to come alone."

"I'll go and look for Su Li," said Luna. "She's the nicest of the Ravenclaw sixth years, and carries a lot of public opinion in our house, now that Cho is gone. She's a capable witch and might be the next Head Girl, too."

"Oh, just sod-off!" exclaimed Hermione to the sound of everyone's laughter.

"You know," said Neville. "I think that this is the first time I have heard Luna telling a joke."

A few minutes later, Luna and Neville came back into the compartment with Susan Bones and Su Li at their heels.

'"We came as ordered," said Susan, smiling.

"Hi, have a seat."

"We are trying to think of an answer to the big question – 'what's next?'" said Hermione. "We certainly don't know the answer yet, but we are quite sure that fighting Death Eaters will be a part of the answer and that this can't be just a Gryffindor fight. So here you are – will you join us?"

"There is more to it than just that," continued Harry. "We are now at war, and war is not a clean tournament. This war is going to be dangerous to both us and the Death Eaters. Deadly dangerous…"

"And what kind of help do you need from us?" asked Su.

"We need people to put their best towards the war effort, and then be a representative figure in their Hogwarts house to aid our image and recruiting efforts," answered Harry.

"Well, I have no family left and a lot of reasons to hate the Death Eaters. I will do my best to fight them."

"Thank you Susan, it means a lot to us. But you should remember that this is not revenge. We are going to fight a war, not a collective personal vendetta. We need to be disciplined and organised in order to have a chance at this."

"Neville is right," agreed Harry, "most of us have a lot to seek revenge for, but Voldemort and his followers are too dangerous for us to oppose without a pre made plan and without us sticking to that to the best of our ability".

'We'll need to do something about that You-Know-Who nonsense' he thought, watching Susan and Su flinch in fright, hearing Tom's made-up name.

"What about you, Su?"

"Will you train us for this war, Harry? Will you help protect our families? Will you listen to our thoughts and ideas?"

"Yes, to the best of our ability, and yes," he answered. "None of us is ready to fight, right now. Last year we barely made it out with our lives against the Death Eaters and, sadly, I don't think we made any significant progress this year."

"So, how do we do this?" asked Su.

"Do you still have your DA coin, Susan?" asked Hermione.

Susan nodded and took the coin out. "I've carried it since that night, a few days ago. I can't stop thinking that if only I and few others had carried it and arrived to help in time, things could have turned out differently…" she trailed off.

Hermione just nodded. "Here is a coin for you too, Su." She gave Su Li a coin from her shoulder bag. "Keep it in your pocket," she said. "It will warm up when we need to contact you, and the writing around the coin will change to the message we need to pass to you."

"There's a place I need to be for a fortnight," said Harry, "so we'll probably be in touch with you after that, and hopefully, we'll have a start of a plan by then."

"Let's get ready," said Ginny. "The train is pulling into the station."

"What about the Slytherins?" asked Su.

"I still think we don't need any bloody Slytherins," mumbled Ron.

"I'll look into this in the next week," promised Hermione. "A Slytherin who will talk to me can't be that bad," she smiled.

"Friends," called Harry, "keep your wands at hand and your eyes open!"

"Yes, Yes," said Ron. "**Constant Vigilance!**" he added to the sound of everyone's laughter.

Just before Harry exited the train, he felt Hermione's hand on his arm. "This is the exact moment, you know."

"What moment?"

"The moment we all grew up."

He stood there for a moment, looking at his friends walking towards their families. "I think you're right," he agreed. "I just hope we are all ready for this."

She gave him a short hug, and climbed down from the train.

The London platform was more crowded than Harry had ever seen it before. It looked like every student had a full welcoming committee waiting for them.

"I told you not to come," Harry heard a seventh year girl from Ravenclaw tell her mother. "I was just going to Apparate straight home," she said.

"I wanted to see you off your last Hogwarts Express ride," replied the mother. "And I didn't want you to be alone," she added silently, looking at the ground.

"Yes? And what will you do? Scourgify the Death Eaters mouths?! When was the last time that you actually duelled against someone?"

'That was uncalled for,' thought Harry, looking at the mother trying to fight her tears. 'And maybe I should do something about people not knowing how to defend themselves.'

Climbing down from the train, he noticed that an almost pronounced line separated most of the traditional Pureblood families from the rest of the crowd. A lot of suspecting and annoyed glaring was thrown between the groups and many Aurors were walking the "line" and all around the platform. Harry noticed that many members of the traditional Slytherin families were looking around and at their neighbouring families with concerned looks. 'Someone has to do something about that too,' he thought to himself. 'We can't leave these people with only the option to help Tom in order to save them. Tom will pressure those families while recruiting and they must know that they have options and allies.'

"Harry dear!" he heard a calling from the other side of the platform.

Reaching the crowd of redheads, he was engulfed in a worm hug.

"Why won't you come to us, dear?"

"I'm listening to Dumbledore's advice and returning to the Dursleys for a couple of weeks. Then, I'll be at my place. It is protected, and I won't add to the danger people face," he said and thought 'and I have important things to do and don't need people looking over my shoulder.' "I was going to ask your children to come there with me. That way they'll be off your hands and free you to your order business."

"Not here, dear," said Molly, looking frantically around. "You need us to help you get there? And where is your trunk, dear? I can ask the twins to get it for you if you like."

"No need, Molly. My trunk is right here," he said, taking his shrunken trunk from his pocket. "And I believe that my relatives will be waiting outside. Otherwise, I can always Apparate there."

"Don't say that with all the Aurors around. Someone might hear you and you'll be in trouble."

"Well, I believe that our Aurors have better things to do than enforce underage magic regulations, so I'll take my chances with them." He smiled to her.

He looked around and asked "Molly, where are Hermione's parents?"

"Hermione's parents! The Aurors didn't let any Muggles on the platform, so they will be waiting outside."

"And is anyone standing guard on them?"

Molly just looked uncomfortable.

"Come, Hermione – We are getting out to them," he said and walked away at a brisk pace.

Outside the platform, they found a large crowd of confused parents.

"Harry, have you already met my parents? Dr. Emma Granger and Dr. Dan Granger."

"You can leave the 'Dr.' part," smiled Emma. "We heard so much about you. How was your school year?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous looks.

"Eventful," he finally answered, "this is not the time or the place for school tales. What happened here?"

"We don't really know. Some bloke in dark blue robes, that looked like some kind of uniform, was standing here earlier and told all non-magical people that we will not be able to enter the platform this year."

"This is too dangerous, Mr. Granger. I'll see if I can do some thing about it."

He turned and walked back to the platform. Farther on, near the 'borderline', he saw a lone Auror standing guard. She was standing tall with her wand at hand, and with her long blonde hair, dark blue eyes and dark blue uniform she looked quite aristocratic to Harry's eyes. He walked to her cautiously.

"Excuse me ma'am…"

"And now you call me ma'am, Mr. Potter?" She said, flashing her eyes purple for a second.

"Tonks!"

"It is Ms. Tonks to you, Mr. Potter."

"So kill me for making an honest mistake, Ms. Nymphadora Tonks."

"This isn't fair, Harry. I'm on duty and can't give you the appropriate punishment right now."

"About this – all the Muggle parents are concentrated just outside the platform, open for an attack on them. Can you come and help me keep guard until most of them are gone?"

"Let me see what I can do." Turning around, she addressed a familiar man. "Senior Auror Shacklebolt, Mr. Potter here, informs me of a potentially dangerous situation outside the platform. Request permission to investigate, sir!"

"Go ahead, Auror Tonks, and take Auror Richards here to help."

"Yes, sir!" She replied and moved toward the entrance with Auror Richards on her tail.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said Kingsley, winking at Harry. "I will probably see you later on this week."

Harry smiled and walked after Tonks.

"We are here to guard Muggles?!" Reproached Auror Richards.

"You are here to guard Hogwarts student's families. Just do as your commander, Shacklebolt, instructed you."

With that, Harry turned around and walked back to Hermione and her parents, with Tonks beside him.

"Thanks, Harry."

"Think nothing of it. Does your home have any kind of protection around it?"

"No, Harry. Professor Dumbledore promised to do something about it, last Christmas, but did nothing, and I don't have the knowledge to do it myself."

"Do you have any ideas, Tonks?"

"Not really. Usually we could have asked Bill, but he isn't capable of hard magical work yet. You can ask the goblins, but their services usually come with a high price tag."

"I'll look into this tomorrow," Harry promised, "and, Tonks, owl me if you think of any possible solution. In the meantime, can you get them any kind of emergency Portkey, or something like it?"

"Here is my Portkey. It will take you you-know-where. It's not under Fidelius anymore, but it's still very heavily warded and quite secured. You," she said, looking at Hermione's parents, "will probably lose consciousness until you get help, because of the Muggle repelling wards, but its better than death at the hands of the Death Eaters."

"Thank you for your kind help," responded Mr. Granger, smiling at Tonks. "We will go now and have fun."

"Take care. I'll call you later tonight."

After a short hug with Hermione, they were gone.

He looked around the emptying train station to see Petunia standing silently alone at the corner.

"Hello Petunia. Are you alone here?"

"Yes Harry. Vernon has been building his temper for a few weeks now. I believe that he's been doing so since your Headmaster visited our home last year. I don't know what to do any more. I came here alone to try and avoid a confrontation but I'm afraid that it's only delaying the inevitable…"

"Let's just go back to the house."

"Harry, where is your school trunk?"

"In my pocket."

"Oh…"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"A fortnight, I think."

"Will you have visitors?"

"I don't know, Petunia. I don't think so. I'd prefer to go out and meet people. It should make things easier."

"Will your Headmaster come to pick you up?"

Harry almost lost it at that. "My Headmaster is dead!"

"Dumbledore? Dead?!"

For a minute, Harry was amazed by the fright he heard in his aunt's voice. It was an echo of the fright that clenched his heart.

"Yes. One of my teachers killed him on Voldemort's orders."

"Are we lost?"

"I want to believe we're not."

"Who is going to fight him, then?"

"I am," he said with so much sarcasm and self-loathing that the conversation ended in tense silence.

Pulling into Privet Drive, Petunia Dursley looked at Harry, not knowing who she was more afraid of— Voldemort, Vernon, or Harry himself. She was both amazed and terrified by the fact that it was probably her skinny nephew who was the most frightening of the lot. That was probably due to the fact that he had the most reasons to hate her.

Standing out of the car, Petunia looked at Harry and said quietly, "Uncle Vernon asked Marge to be here. I think he is looking for a confrontation. Please, take it easy on him."

"Oh, crap! Can't anything be simple today? I'm going straight to my room!" With a soft popping sound, he Disapparated, leaving only slight air turbulence behind.

"**Boy!!**"

The voice of Vernon cry echoed throughout the house.

"**Don't make me wait for you!**"

The shouting went on.

Harry sealed up his room's door and lay down on his small uncomfortable bed.

'These are going to be two very long weeks,' he thought.

He tried to think through his day; making mental lists and making up his mind on issues on which his opinion would be needed. He felt that his head was so full with thoughts and memories that he couldn't even stack them in metaphoric piles in his head, let alone keep them in any kind of logical order, to use in reaching any kind of conclusions. For once he understood Dumbledore's view regarding the Pensieve – he really needed one.

Then there was all the knowledge he needed. During the last school year, Dumbledore started to broaden his knowledge beyond the normal school curriculum. Harry thought he now knew most of the knowledge Dumbledore had regarding the Horcruxes Tom had made and their whereabouts, but he knew almost nothing regarding their destruction. He knew that Dumbledore had a "fight" with one of them, and had struggled to narrowly win. Then, there was the diary that Harry himself had destroyed. The main problem was that he currently didn't have any basilisk, or fresh basilisk fangs to use, and, honestly, he didn't want one, either. A basilisk might be handy if he could control it like Tom did, but that couldn't be the 'Power Tom knows not' and it would be too dangerous to handle around people. Then there were his fighting skills; he didn't want to blame Dumbledore, but he couldn't understand just how Dumbledore had known about the prophecy all those years and not seen that Harry got better training than your average student.

That was another problem; Dumbledore, with all his power and knowledge and twinkling eyes, surely had known how to evade giving answers to unwanted questions, and to keep people as much as possible – in the dark. One of his secrets had even gotten him killed. He'd been asked countless times for the reason which led him to put that much confidence in Snape, but did he ever give an answer? Harry couldn't help but worry himself about the many dangers which hid behind Dumbledore's many secrets.

So, where could he start? Train to fight? Look for the Horcruxes? Defend his friends?

What Harry needed was someone to help him think – he needed Hermione.

Luckily, one of the domains in which Muggles did considerably better than wizards was the field of communication. He could just go downstairs and ring Hermione up. Dudley, of course, had had a telephone in his room for years, now. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't permitted to use the common one. Well, this wasn't going to stop him this time around. Maybe he should get himself one of those cell phones.

Getting to the door, he jumped back from the banging noise coming from his door.

"**You will come right away when I call you and I will see none of your freakishness in my home!**" He bellowed. "**Get out! Get out now!!**"

'Already purple,' thought Harry. He pondered, for a minute, the possibility of not coming out and letting Vernon cool down for the night, but he really wanted to ring Hermione.

"Right, just step back from the door." He waited for the sound of Vernon's steps backing from the door, and then silenced it before opening the door and stepping out into the first floor hall. Vernon had never actually hit him before, but nor was he ever that angry with Harry.

"Let's just go downstairs. I need to use the phone."

If possible, Vernon got even angrier. Before Vernon could gather enough air to continue with his shouting, Harry just walked past him, down the stairs, through the corridor and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of orange juice, picked out a glass and sat at the table opposite to Petunia, who was looking at him cautiously.

"You wanted to have a word, didn't you?"

Uncle Vernon was gob smacked. Not only did that boy sit in **his** kitchen table drinking **his** juice, but he was totally indifferent about the whole thing. The Potter boy should have been cowering from him, and certainly not looking him in the eyes.

"How dare you speak to my brother in that tone?! He took you in, in the middle of the night; put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food on your plate…"

"Yes, I've heard this conversation before, Marge. No need to repeat the whole thing."

"Ungrateful, as always. Just like your good for nothing…" For some reason Marge couldn't finish her sentence after meeting Harry's cold eyes.

"You think your freak of a Headmaster will come back to help you, being rude to us in our own home? "

Harry's face lost any sign of life. "You don't need to worry, Vernon – he was murdered few days ago."

"Dead?!" bellowed Vernon. "You are out of our home right now!"

"Vernon dear…"

"**Out! Out!!**"

"You can't throw him out. I promised my sister that I would protect the boy," screamed Petunia.

"You do understand that more than you protecting me these days, my presence here is protecting you?"

Vernon didn't take notice. He grabbed Harry by his arm—and, before he could react – pushed him out of the kitchen's door. Then it all went pear-shaped.

Once out side, there was a distinct 'Humming' sound. A large purple-red dome materialized above the Dursley's house. It flickered for a long moment, and then, with a loud 'cracking' sound it disappeared.

'Bugger,' thought Harry. "Inside! Get inside immediately!" he called, looking around him frantically.

The first sign of a problem was a silent popping noise to the left of the back yard, where an outline of a translucent figure just appeared. A second later, the figure disappeared again with the same silent sound.

"**Inside! Quickly!" **he shouted, trying to think of some kind of solution to avoid the approaching fight. He had no illusion regarding his capability to fend off alone a group attack by Death Eaters, while protecting his relatives from harm.

Once again, a mixture of popping and cracking noises was heard all around the yard, while figures in black cloaks appeared all around them. Harry was led by his instincts and shouted a "_Stupefy_" at one of the closer figures, turning to the side and summoning another one's wand using a powerful '_Expelliarmus_' charm. He was ready to hit himself as the first figure was '_Enervated_' immediately, and the other just took out a second wand from his pocket.

'This is not a schoolyard fight,' he reprimanded himself.

Then he heard a well known voice mocking him. "Harrykins is all alone and helpless. What will you do now that the old fool can't save you any more?"

'Keep the conversation up and stall,' he thought to himself.

"Blimey, Tommy boy again sends his ship of fools to do his dirty work for him. Is he ready to come and rescue you up this time?"

All the while, he was trying to push his relatives back into the house and place himself between the Death Eaters and them.

"Trying to protect the Muggles?"

"Oh, sorry for my rudeness, let me do the introductions. Family, this is Bellatrix Lestrange. Bella is an insane, sadistic mass-murderer, and a groupie of half-blood, Tommy boy."

"Bella, fellows – this is my family: Vernon, this good for nothing lump of fat; Petunia, the jealous, petty sister of my mother; Marge, a breeder of mean dogs and foul language; and, somewhere inside, Dudley, the inbreed of them all. You should know about the problems of inbreeding, don't you Bella?"

'Why doesn't anybody come?' he thought. 'There should have been at least an Auror coming to investigate all the Spellwork in a Muggle neighbourhood. Maybe they have orders to leave me alone this year, and a few '_Stupefies_' won't raise the alarm any more. I should up the spell level.'

"Bella, the last time we met, we were interrupted in the middle of a lesson. Do you want to test my progress?"

He concentrated all his hate towards her, and transferred all his hatred for Tom and his Death Eaters to Bella herself. He thought about the suffering she deserved for all the pain that she had caused. He concentrated on the warm filling of a well served revenge. Then he looked up and into Bella's eyes.

Bella looked wide eyed at the blood-red ray of magic heading her way. She tried raising a round metal-looking shield on her hand, but the curse just pierced it and threw her off her feet, screaming her lungs out in agony.

Harry kept his wand pointing at her. He was looking amazed at the convulsing body in front of him and noting the frozen Death Eater's figures all around the yard. Seconds felt like hours for him and he finally broke down the spell. He stood there feeling light headed and very nauseous, sickened by his own deeds.

"Was I a good student, Professor Lestrange?" he asked of the panting woman lying in front of him, quietly.

That was the time Vernon chose to interfere.

"Get out off my land, all you freaks!" he shouted and kicked Bella in the ribs. That was his last deed, since the next moment a well-placed cutting curse, from one of the surrounding Death Eaters, who just regained his right mind, threw him to the pavement, almost cutting his torso in two.

"Vernon!" Harry heard Petunia's shrike.

He turned and _'Stupefy_' her before she could step out of the door. He had no concentration to reserve for looking after his relatives running around the yard.

At that moment, a series of Apparating sounds were heard around the house. 'The cavalry, finally,' he thought as he ran, looking for shelter to fight from.

He looked in horror as one of the incoming people was met with a green ray of magic, almost as soon as he arrived, and dropped soundlessly to the ground. Another was hit with a blasting curse which shattered a hastily conjured shield, and threw the person onto the house wall.

Another Apparating person used a cutting course to cut off the wand hand of the Death Eater who used the killing curse earlier. Two others had stunned two of the remaining Death Eaters. Suddenly, Harry was joined behind the car by Dudley.

"What part of 'stay inside' didn't you understand?"

"I'm going to get them."

"No you're not. Just stay here and hide, or I'll stun you like I did your mother."

Harry raised his head and stunned a Death Eater who tried to curse one of the probable Aurors from the back. He went on and summoned the Death Eater's both wands, just in case.

"Thanks," mouthed the Auror and went on looking for more enemies.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Bella raise her head from the ground. She shot an unknown dark blue curse at one of the Aurors, which dropped him to the ground, crying in pain. Harry saw a Death Eater running towards him and getting hit in the waist by one of the Aurors. Another was suddenly walking backwards from the yard, holding Dudley as a shield. Harry looked into the man's eye with only one word resonating in his mind – 'No!' a second later the Death Eater was blown to the ground.

That marked the end of the fight. Suddenly, all capable Death Eaters disappeared from sight and a weary silence descended on the place.

"Are you guys alright?" asked one of the men. "Senior Auror Stanford Lucas, by the way."

"Harry," he said, shaking the man's hand.

"My uncle there tried to fight them off by kicking Bellatrix Lestrange in the ribs. It wasn't a good idea. I had to stun my aunt to prevent her from joining him. How did you do? I saw one of your Aurors hit by a killing curse."

"Stan then, and yes," the man said sadly. "Auror Drea Richards. She was my trainee in the Auror academy. I have two other Aurors wounded, one of them severely; they were transferred to St. Mungo's, together with the wounded Death Eaters. One of them is Adrian Pucey, who you probably know. We don't know the other two."

"Who are the dead?"

Unmasking the Death Eater who tried to use Dudley as a shield, he saw the empty face of Gregory Goyle. On his forearm was a freshly burnt dark mark. Harry stood there mourning for the choices his schoolmate made, the ones which made him Harry's first kill.

The other one was Alecto Carrow.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Revive my aunt, and go somewhere safe. It isn't safe for us here anymore. If you need me for the investigation, owl me and I'll come to the ministry."

"Will do."

"Err, Auror Lucas?"

"Call me Stan, Harry. We fought Death Eaters together."

"I'm a little embarrassed to ask, but can I levitate my aunt inside? I'm still under aged, you know."

Stan looked at him in shock, and then just started laughing. "Just be careful not to knock her head on the doorpost. St. Mungo's is busy enough tonight," he said, and went to look for witnessing neighbours.

When Petunia woke up, she was lying on the couch in the drawing room.

"Dudley?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"He's right here," Harry answered kindly. He didn't know why, but he couldn't be mean to that woman.

"Vernon?" she asked with a shaking little voice.

Harry shook his head. "We couldn't have done anything for him. They took his body to make it presentable, and will bring it to the funeral home tomorrow. Marge had her memory erased, and will wake up in the morning thinking her brother had a stroke. I don't like it either, but the knowledge will do her no good."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet, but this place isn't safe anymore. We need to get somewhere safe. Let's go and visit Mrs. Figg."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Mrs. Figg?"

"She's a Squib from a much known family, asked by Dumbledore to live in the neighbourhood, in order to keep an eye on me. I must say that she didn't do so great."

Harry walked briskly down the street with Petunia and Dudley on toe. The adrenalin rush from the fight was starting to ebb away and the fear was starting to get a hold on his mind and affect his thinking and behaviour. Worse than the fear, were the regrets. The sickness he felt from the after-effect of the curse he used was beginning to take a toll on him, and the effort needed to just go on was beginning to become almost too much to bear. He felt like he was stumbling down a road he didn't want to walk.

He felt like he was being dragged along by the events, and desperately needed to stand back and choose his own way through this, but this was not the time. Sadly, it was seldom the time.

"Dudley, do you carry your mobile phone?"

Dudley just nodded.

"Can I use it?"

He took the phone from his cousin without slowing his pace, and dialled Hermione.

- Dr. Granger? It's Harry.

- Mrs. Granger, then. I need to speak to Hermione please.

- It's important.

- Thank you, I'll hold.

- I will be glad to meet with you, we can make plans tomorrow.

For a few moments, Harry kept walking in silence. Reaching a bench, a couple of houses from Mrs. Figg's, he stopped and sat down.

- Yes, listen – There was an attack on our house.

- My uncle and an Auror…

- No, there's no time for that. I think that my attack is only the first. I want you and your parents out of the house in ten minutes. Go somewhere near Grimmauld Place, have dinner, and I'll call you when the place will be ready for non-magical guests.

- No, I'm not sure about this! Do you want to take bets?

- Sorry, I'm just in a bad mood.

- I'll contact the burrow and tell them to leave.

- Sorry, just get out of there quickly, and keep your Portkey at hand all the time.

- Bye.

He disconnected, sat there for a few more moments, holding his head to his knees, and then just leaned to the side of the bench and threw up.

Petunia was getting desperate. In a short afternoon, her organized and habitual life was gone. Vernon was dead and by magic, no less. Her beloved, well kept home became a death trap, and her life now actively depended on her young nephew, who had every right to hate her, and was currently looking like he was collapsing under the pressure and the responsibility he was carrying. In a moment's decision she sat beside Harry on the bench, held his forehead and gave him a napkin to clean his mouth.

"Are you feeling well, Harry?" she asked, concerned.

Harry flinched and recoiled from her touch. "I'll be fine. I did some horrible things this evening, and I need some time to cope."

He got up and went to the door.

Mrs. Figg opened her door in her traditional dressing gown and slippers.

"Harry?"

"Tell me, where is the famous Order when needed? There was an attack on my house, by Death Eaters. Aurors arrived from the _ministry_ and no one from the bloody Order!"

Harry knew that he was getting all worked up, but he was getting too tired and frustrated to control himself.

"Do you have a Floo connection? I need Tonks, and I need Remus and I need to call The Burrow right now!"

Mrs. Figg ran to the fireplace and started fiddling with the matches.

"Just step to the side", a quick '_Incendio'_ later and flames merrily danced in the clean and empty fireplace. He took a handful of the powder from Mrs. Figg's hand and threw it into the fire, making it blaze in green.

"The Burrow!"

In a minute, Arthur's head appeared in the flames.

Harry always detested the Floo network. It was uncomfortable and dirty both as a communication and transportation system. Then there was the fact that it was exposed to all kinds of manipulations from anybody with access to the central control of the network. With the ministry controlling it, Harry was reluctant of any use of the system.

"Hi Arthur, how are you lot?"

"We're fine, where are you calling from, Harry?"

"Mrs. Figg's, listen – I want you all to leave the Burrow immediately and go you-know-where for the night. There was a Death Eater attack on my house, and I fear that it's not the last one for the night."

"An attack! Harry, are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine, but my uncle and an Auror were killed, and a couple wounded. I want you out of the Burrow – just in case."

"Harry, the Burrow is very well protected, and since the '_Fidelius_' on Grimmauld Place has collapsed, it is not better protected than many other places."

"At least stay on your guard?"

"Certainly Harry, maybe I'll call for some help too. Molly wants to talk to you."

Harry didn't have time, or patience for mothering. "Sorry, I need to contact Remus and Tonks urgently. I will Floo you tomorrow."

"Fine, Harry. If you like, I can send them a message for you."

"Thanks, Arthur. Ask them to come to Mrs. Figg's place, and please use the word urgent somewhere in the message? Bye."

Next was Remus. Luckily, he was home and agreed to Apparate in right away. Tonks was even easier since she Appeared in with Kingsley even before he had the time to try and Floo her.

"Did you look for us?"

"Yes, thanks for coming. Tell me, where is the Order these days?"

"Regrouping," answered Kingsley, a bit embarrassed. "What happened?"

"There was an attack on 4 Privet Drive, about an hour ago. Aurors from the ministry came to help, but not one from the order."

He saw the shocked looks on Tonks and Kingsley's faces and added softly, "Your friend Auror Drea Richards was killed. She _Apparated_ right into a killing curse. Two other Aurors are at St. Mungo's. I don't know their names."

Tonks sat on the couch, looking lost. "Drea? She was a year behind me in the academy."

"Are you sure you don't know who the wounded are?"

"Sorry Kingsley, Senior Auror Stanford Lucas took them away, even before I knew the battle ended, and I didn't ask for names."

For a moment, they all sat in silence. Finally, Harry asked "what happened? A year ago I couldn't go to the loo without someone from the Order holding it for me." He ignored Tanks' laughter. "Today there was a whole fight and nobody knew?"

"Well, 'regrouping' was not a good enough explanation," he heard Remus from the corner. "Without Dumbledore, we have no warning system and no coordination at all. Frankly – we are quite useless as a fighting force…"

"We'll have to do something about that, but not tonight. My uncle was killed; my house exposed; and I need your help to get to Grimmauld Place and help my relatives through the anti-Muggles charm. Then we need to think of a way to help protect the Burrow. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure thing, Harry. How are you planning to get there?"

"That's part of the problem, Tonks. I can Floo there but Petunia and Dudley can't. I could have side-Apparated them if I knew where the damn place was…"

"You can side-Apparate?" asked Kingsley

"Yep, Dumbledore taught me." He ignored the astonished looks and asked, "Can any of you make a Portkey?"

A minute later, Harry was holding a pot cover turned Portkey, courtesy of Mr. Shacklebolt. Turning to Dudley and Petunia, he explained: "This is a Portkey. It's a mean of transportation, and very uncomfortable at that. When we all touch it, it will take us in a second to just outside the place we need to be in London. You need to trust me on this. It is frightening and uncomfortable, a bit like a rollercoaster, but totally safe. Just hold this with your fingers."

"Thanks, Mrs. Figg, and sorry for my outburst earlier."

_"Activate"_

For the first time, Harry landed on his feet. He helped his dizzy aunt to her shaking legs, and looked at the brown and dirty house.

"Well. This is home," he said dispiritedly, watching Tonks and Remus move in to the door. "Please stay here, until the house will be safe for you to enter. Kingsley, can you stay with them?"

Inside, Harry walked on a familiar sight, which, in other time, he might have found amusing. Tonks was sitting on the floor near the troll leg umbrella holder, robbing her foot, while Remus was trying futilely to close the curtains which usually covered Mrs. Black's portrait.

"**Traitors! Filth! Half-bloods! Half-breeds! Get out of my home! Get out of this noble house! **

**"Oh, silence old hag."**

Curiously enough, the portrait was silenced.

Looking around, the old house looked, if possible, even more dusted than before. The floor, stairs, furniture, picture frames, drapes, lamps and all were covered with a thick layer of dust, while cobwebs decorated every corner.

"Did any one use this place since…"

"Well, no. Magical houses are very much connected to their owner, and the order decided not to use the place while you were not a member."

"So this place has been empty since…"

"Yes, cub," said Remus softly. "And now you need to command the house."

"No, this is not possible." They heard a voice from behind the drapes. "This is the most ancient and noble house of Black. This house belongs to Mr. Black, to Sirius."

Harry turned and opened the curtains "Mrs. Black, I am sorry to inform you that your son, Mr. Sirius Black is dead, with a lot of help from your house elf. The most ancient and noble house of Black is no more."

"That can't be, Kreacher was Sirius's elf. He couldn't have killed him."

"What did you tell the elf to do?"

"I told it to drive all you filth out of this house."

"He did just that. He went to Bellatrix and helped her operate a trap for Sirius and me, where she killed Sirius. You should be proud of yourself, Mrs. Black. You had two good sons, and you drove them both to their death. Regulus was maybe a racist, but a murderer he wasn't. You drove him to the hands of Voldemort, and Voldemort got him killed since he refused to do the atrocities that Voldemort commanded. Sirius was killed by _your_ cousin with the help of _his own_ elf acting on **your orders**. Now, you will be hanging on the wall, for hundreds of years, knowing that your beloved house of Black is extinct by _your_ own hands!"

With that, Harry closed the curtains covering the portrait, ignoring the crying sounds coming from within, and turned: "How do I take command of the house?"

Tonks signalled them to follow, and led them to the cellar. There, behind an ornamented door, was a small chamber. Its walls were decorated in elaborated green and silver embossments. The room contained no furnishing, but a stone cube in the middle of it.

"Black ritual room," explained Tonks to Harry's unasked question. "Sorry, Remus, only Black family and the owner of the house can enter the room uninvited, and since Harry didn't take control over the house yet, he can't invite you in."

Inside, Tonks led Harry to the centre stone of the room. There, on top, was a small gold covered indentation. The ritual was an amusingly simple one. Harry was supposed to drop three drops of his blood into the indentation. Put his wand hand on top and state clearly – "I, Harry James Potter hereby take my place as the rightful owner of the house of Black." Then the magic of the house would verify the statement, by a method of which Tonks didn't know to explain, and either accept Harry as the owner of the house, or do Harry some nasty, unknown things.

Completely reassured, Harry reluctantly did as instructed and waited anxiously for those 'nasty' retaliations. For ten long minutes nothing happened, and then, to Harry's surprise, the room was illuminated with a silvery light, and a large silver key, with an attached silver necklace appeared on the centre stone.

"What now?" asked Harry, pocketing the key.

"Now you need the house almanac."

Harry and Tonks looked at each other. Then Harry sigh and called "Kreacher!"

A soft 'pop' sound indicated the old elf's arrival. "Kreacher, shut up, and bring me the almanac of the house immediately."

A few seconds later, Kreacher returned holding an old tome to Harry.

"Thanks. Now go to the entrance hall, stay there, and stay silent, until given other instructions by me only."

Looking at Tonks, he shrugged and said, "Hermione will be disappointed, but I can't stop hating this elf, and I'm not having a good day…"

"And now we read."

The tome was thick, old and hard to read for a large part, because of yellowing pages and fading writings. Wards handling was a complicated task, since the different enchantments included in each ward were complicated to co enchant, and complex ward weaving was a specialized, delicate job. Luckily, the cancelling of a certain ward from the complex ward work was a much simpler task. The Black house wards were immaculately structured and were cantered on a control board which was a polished granite plate set with gems, on which any gem controlled a certain aspect of the wards. Cancelling the anti-muggle wards required recognizing the correct gem and removing that gem using the head of the house key. An attempt at the removal of a gem without using the key, or by anyone but the rightful owner of the house would result in the same 'nasty' retaliations, as regarding the house ownership.

Harry recognized the oval opal stone which controlled the anti-muggle task of the wards. With a shaking hand, he took out the key and removed the stone, and… nothing happened.

"We will just have to try," said Remus. "I'll call Petunia and Dudley in and cross my fingers."

Fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and an agitated Remus and weary Kingsley walked in together with a nervous Petunia and a numb Dudley.

"So far, so good," said Tonks. "The anti-Muggles wards are actually down."

"**No! This is the noble house of Black. No Muggle will ever set foot here! Kreacher! Throw them out!!"**

Kreacher bared his teeth and ran towards Petunia. At the same moment, Harry pointed his wand at Kreacher, and said one word – '_Reducto_'. Kreacher was blown into the side wall and laid there in a pull of his greenish blood.

"**Kreacher! You half blood filth killed my elf!"**

Another '_Reducto_' and the wall on which Mrs. Black picture was hanged, crumbled to the floor.

Harry looked at the broken portrait and asked, "and Dumbledore couldn't have done this all along?!"

At that moment, a silvery fox hit Remus in the chest. "The Burrow!" he said.

"Don't Apparate in too close to the fight," called Harry, a moment before Remus, Kingsley and Tonks Disapparated.

It was late at night and the day was not yet over. He had to prepare the house for the guests, he had to invite Hermione and her parents in, and he needed help.

"Dobby!"

A second later, the little enthusiastic house elf popped in. "Master Harry Potter sir called Dobby?"

"Dobby, please, I need your help. I will pay you a hundred galleons, but I just came to this house. It's in a horrible state. The Burrow is under attack, and I need at least six guest rooms ready for the night. Can you help me?"

"Dobby will help Master Harry sir, but Dobby will not get paying. The house will be ready in an hour, and Dobby will keep an eye on your Weazy too."

With that, Dobby disappeared. 'I'll have to speak with Dobby regarding his pay in the morning,' he thought. He asked Dudley again for his mobile and rang Hermione.

"It's clear. You can come in now."

He looked at the ruins of the wall and flicked his wand at it. He growled when nothing happened and flicked his wand again, this time vanishing the ruins. After another thought, he flicked his wand at the direction of Kreacher's corpse and vanished it too.

'No,' he thought. 'Hermione won't be happy at all…"

"Listen, folks," he said to Petunia and Dudley. "This place was the home of mean people who especially hated Muggles. It is **dangerous!** Please don't touch anything outside of your appointed rooms, and I will see to make this place safer to live in, in the morning."

After that, Harry just sank to the floor, with his back against the wall and his head between his knees, and just sat there silently.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was early afternoon when the Granger family arrived home. It was a long time since Hermione was home for a long stay, and her parents were excited about the prospect of having long quality time with their daughter during the summer holiday. It was actually two years since the last time they could really talk to her. During the last two years their little daughter had become a young woman, and Emma and Dan had the disturbing feeling that Hermione was both hiding part of her life from them, and quickly growing apart. One of their problems was the fact that they had a hard time keeping in touch with Hermione during the long school-year months. They couldn't understand the absent of a simple device like a public telephone at Hogwarts, and even letter communication was very limited since regular mail couldn't reach the school and they were limited to the times in which they managed to tie a letter to one of the owls Hermione had sent them, before it flew away. Another disturbing problem was the lack of a support group. On one hand, Emma and Dan couldn't talk to their friends or even relatives about Hermione's schooling. On the other hand, they had no other people to share their experience with. For long, they had felt like side standees in all events regarding their daughter's life, but that day's happenings, at King's Cross Station made them feel like outcasts. A feeling which they didn't appreciate at all.

"Love, why don't you put your things in your room; have a shower to refresh yourself, and then we'll have a nice dinner and a quiet evening at home for you to relax?"

"That's a lovely idea. I really need an evening to do nothing of importance and just relax. I will be back downstairs in a short while."

Emma was setting the table when the phone rang.

- Good evening

- Oh, Hello Harry. Didn't we ask you to leave the Dr. part alone?

- She's a bit occupied right now. Is it important?

- Well, she is in the shower. I'll see if I can get her to the phone.

- She will answer the phone in a minute. Can you hold?

- Harry, you are such a good friend of Hermione's. We would like to invite you over and get to know you better.

Then there was silence until Hermione came running from the bathroom wrapped in her dressing gown.

- Harry?

- An attack! Was anybody hurt?

- You want me to come over tomorrow morning and help you sort it out?

- Leave our house! Are you sure about this?

- You don't need to snap at me like that.

- What about the Weasleys?

- Harry!

- I will see you later then.

Hermione hung up the phone, and took a deep, calming breath. "Mum, Dad, Harry's house was attacked by Death Eaters a little earlier, and we are afraid that ours and Ron's are next in line. Ron's home is well protected, but I can't protect us here. Honestly, I can't protect us alone anywhere. Harry is preparing a safe house for us to stay for a while. We need to leave quickly and go somewhere we won't be found, until Harry rings us again."

"Dear, this is surely not that serious?"

"Daddy, I can't be more serious."

"Your father still has his service pistol, and the police station is right around the corner. Surly we're safe enough here?"

"Mom, you will be calling the policemen to their death. Father might surprise someone with the first shot, but then we will be defenceless. Please, I'm too afraid, let's just go out for dinner and talk it over?"

"Right dear, what do you want us to do?"

"Right! I'm going up to my room to dress up. Make a pile on your bed with every thing you need for a fortnight. Luckily, I haven't unpacked my trunk yet. You should put there everything from the house you _really_ don't want to lose too. Don't save place, I'll do the packing."

She took another long breath. "Thank you, Mum," she said, hugging her mother and running upstairs to her room.

Emma and Dan looked at their little girl running up the stairs, took a look at each other, sighed and went doing as 'ordered'.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione entered her parent's bedroom to find a large pile of clothes and artefacts on the bed, and her parents debating what they could leave behind to save place.

"It's all right," she said, "pass me the leather travel bag from the closet?"

A swish of Hermione's wand later, and the pile was shrunken and arranged neatly in the bag, another flick, and the bag was comfortably stashed in Emma's pocket. This was the first time that Emma and Dan had seen their daughter use her magic intentionally and could do nothing but stare at her in amazement.

"What?!" asked Hermione looking up. "Honestly, let's just get out of here."

"Do we take both cars or drive together?" asked Dan, looking between the two family cars.

"Can't you leave your toys behind?" teased Emma.

Fifteen seconds later the family drove off in Emma's car, with Emma at the wheel, and with Dan's 69 Jaguar E type convertible safely in his pocket.

Out on the street, they could see dark masked figures appearing from thin air two houses down the street.

"Just keep going, and get a hold of this," Hermione whispered, almost petrified with fear, and handed her parents the Portkey necklace. "They won't think to look at cars… I think…"

Even before they had reached the end of the street, they could see a jet of green sparks turn into an ugly sign of a human skull with a snake's head as a tongue hanging above their house. Turning around the corner, the glow of flames was already visible from the place which was their home for years.

For a long while, they just sat there in silence, driving the dual carriageway north towards London. They stopped for a moment in a carriageway side shop to buy a street map.

"Not the greatest of neighbourhoods," said Dan sarcastically, nearing the given address.

"It's not about the neighbours, but the wards around the house, Dad."

"Lets just drive away and find a nice restaurant to have dinner and talk."

"Yes, Mum."

"So, will you tell us what it's all about?"

"I don't even know how, or where to begin, Dad. Let me try:

You know how in fantasy tales and movies there is always a dark lord or an evil sorcerer for the good folks to fight against? Well, England, and probably the whole of Europe suffer these days from a severe case Dark Lordishness. The last time the Dark Lord was that dangerous, Muggles called it World War II, and it didn't end until professor Dumbledore managed to kill the dark lord of the time – Grindelwald.

The current Dark lord is an Englishman by the name of Tom Riddle. He calls himself Lord Voldemort, and his followers, who attacked our home, are called Death Eaters. Seventeen years ago, a prophecy was made according to which the only person with the power to defeat Riddle is Harry. I don't believe in prophecies and I think that Harry doesn't believe in it either, but all this is redundant since Riddle believes in it and is hunting Harry to kill him since the day Harry was born."

"So, why attack our home?"

"You need to understand that the Wizarding world, especially in Europe, suffers from deep bigotry against all which is not pure humane wizard. People like Riddle's followers hate anybody who is not born to two wizard parents. Pure-bloods, they call themselves. They barely suffer any wizard which only one of his parents is a wizard – "Half-bloods", and completely detest people like me who are born to non magical parents – "muggle-born". You don't know the prejudice I have to fight daily at school. "Mudblood," they call me and I need to pretend that I don't care and I'm above this. They treat non magical people like they were animals.

Riddle hates me personally for two main reasons: firstly – I am the current best student at school, and being Muggleborn, this is unacceptable in their eyes. Secondly – I am one of Harry's best friends and he wants to hurt him through me."

"Why didn't you tell us all this before?"

"For a long time, I didn't know how to explain the situation I just described to you. Then, I was afraid that you'd ask me to leave Hogwarts. With all the prejudice I have to face, I love being a witch. It's who I am!"

"Can we do anything to help?"

At that time, Hermione was openly crying. "Just stay alive," she sobbed. "Just stay alive…"

It was a long silent while until Emma's mobile rang, and they went out to the street, heading to Grimmauld Place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, the Weasleys were having a joyful dinner. It was a long while since the whole family was sitting together. Even Percy was at the house, though he was sitting in the corner and was generally ignored by every member of the family but Molly. Another member of the family who was receiving quite a cold shoulder that evening was Ron. That was not because of any grave disagreement he had with any other member of the family, but due to one of the 'Cannons' rare winnings, which made him 'Cannon talk' that evening much more than his usual.

The main subject of discussion was the upcoming wedding ceremony. Molly had the whole thing figured up and sadly, not quite to the taste of a certain blonde French girl.

"I have told you that a thousand times – I am not wearing your grandmother Wilhelma's dress for the ceremony, and we are not inviting more than 100 guests. We want it to be an intimate ceremony, don't we, Bill?!"

Bill had the look of a trapped hare on his face, and for a minute he considered sitting beside Ron and listening to his praised about the 'Cannons'.

On the other side of the table, Charlie was telling an enthusiastic Ginny and Arthur a story about a dragon which decided to try and fly around with a wing of training jets, over Hungary. "The drivers of the airplanes were so stunned that we had to stun them for real, in order to prevent an accident. We Obliviated them and left them in a forest clearing sitting in their planes."

Just then, the fire in the hearth flashed green and Harry's face appeared.

A short hushed conversation later, Arthur reached for a handful of Floo powder and Flooed the ministry. After another short conversation, Arthur returned to the table and asked for his family's attention.

"We had a Floo call from Harry just now. His house was attacked by Death Eaters earlier in the evening. He is fine and going to Grimmauld Place, so we can go and visit there tomorrow. Meanwhile, there's a risk of an attack on the Burrow tonight or in the next few days. I have checked on the wards here and they are in good order. I have checked with the Auror department. They are keyed to our wards and know to come here with any warning from them. I just ask you all to keep alert, keep your wands with you at all times and keep enjoying this evening."

The Weasleys evening went on pleasantly for a while. George and Fred tried to 'welcome Fleur into the family' and ended with pointy green ears, to the hysterical laughter of Ginny. She was growing more and more fond of the beautiful French girl. It was getting late and the Weasleys were saying their goodbyes to the older members of the family, living out of the Burrow, when the warning gem above the fireplace lit up. Moments later, the Burrow's yard was illuminated by the green sparks raising a Dark Mark above the house and from the sparks emitted where dark figures with white or silver masks were busying themselves trying to put down the wards.

"Let's get them!" cried Fred and George in a choir and ran to the windows.

"I'll call the order," said Molly and sent her '_Patronus_' to Remus.

Outside, the Death Eaters attack went pear-shaped. Taking into account the largish family of wizards, the attacking group consisted of no less than twenty men. Ten of those were new recruits trying desperately to prove themselves to their new master. The group was led by Severus Snape on his first mission as a raid leader. Luckily enough, George's first curse hit Snape in the ribs, causing him a severe bleeding and forcing him to retreat and look for emergency medical help. Too wounded for Apparition, Snape used his emergency Portkey, and left his men trapped under the Burrow's anti-apparition wards without an escape route.

Trapped, and without leadership, the Death Eaters had to fight their way through the wards. While the more experienced men were working on breaking through the wards, the new recruits were ordered to both protect the men working at the wards, and use all their power to try and hit the people in the house. This was easier said than done. Only few curses were capable of piercing the Burrow's wards, namely the three unforgivables. Of these, only two were useful. The '_Crucio_' curse, for example was limited by the fact that in order for it to be effective the caster had to sustain the curse for at least ten to fifteen seconds, otherwise the curse was no worse then a stinging course. All that while, the caster was unprotected and was marking his place by the red ray of magic coming continuously from his wand. Michael Corner learned this fact the hard way. He got Charlie with a '_Crucio_', sending him screaming to the ground, only to have his chest explode from a well placed '_Reducto_' curse from Ron. The '_Imperio_' curse was quite effective. A well placed '_Imperio_' sent an unprepared Percy to turn and try to fire a killing curse at his mother. Luckily, Ginny had seen this from the corner of her eye and stunned him before he managed to complete the long incantation. Disgusted, she stunned him again, tied him up in conjured ropes, and, for a good measure – took his wand and broke it in two.

The most effective curse in that situation was the killing curse, though it wasn't without faults. The main advantage of the curse (from the attacker's point of view) was the fact that the curse was virtually unstoppable. It would kill any live being in its course, and create huge damage to solid matter hit by it. With that much power and destruction at hand came limitations:

Firstly, the killing curse was very difficult to cast. In order to cast an effective killing curse, the caster had to truly rejoice in the killing of another person. This was a difficult task for sane people, hence forcing the caster to concentrate and clear his mind from all 'incompatible thoughts', for quite a considerable period of time, before one could effectively cast the course.

Secondly, the curse was quite draining on the caster's magic. Only a few of the most powerful wizards and witches could cast the killing curse repeatedly. All others were limited to two-three casts per day, with at least an hour of rest in between, and few minutes of rest before performing any other major use of magic.

These limitations made the curse a very effective execution tool, but a limited fighting tool. Penelope Nott learned this lesson in the heat of the fight. She was concentrating on casting a killing curse at Arthur, when a well placed '_Reducto_' curse hit her from the side, sending her flying into a nearby tree and rendering her unconscious, lying in a pool of her own blood. In a shooting fight, one can not divert his attention…

Another Death Eater was more successful in casting the curse. George saw the twisting green magic heading towards Bill. In a split second decision, he banished the dining table at his brother, rendering him unconscious and sending him out of harms way.

The battle went on for a few more minutes before a gash of sparks noted the failure of the wards. About the same moment, Kingsley, Remus and Tonks Apparated in behind the broom shade at the Burrow's back yard. About the same time, a group of five Aurors Apparated in about 100 yards behind the Death Eater's lines. Caught in the cross fire, the Death Eaters had no other choice but to retreat and face the fury of their master.

One by one, the Death Eaters Apparated out, leaving behind the dead, severely wounded, and few new recruits with no knowledge in Apparating. Ron was hiding in the ruined corner of his home trying to make one more Death Eater pay for the damage before the end of the fight. He followed a dark figure with his wand and hit it with a stunner. There was no reason for killings at that stage, and a living Death Eater was a much better source of information than a dead one. Turning around, he found a large dark figure with a white mask covering its face, looming above him and pointing its wand at him. For a split second, they both froze in place. Then, with a soft 'popping' sound, the small figure of Dobby appeared between the two, and the Death Eater was thrown at the ruins behind him with a sickening crushing sound.

"Thanks, Dobby," whispered Ron with a shaken voice.

"Dobby promised Master Harry Potter sir to watch over his Weazy."

Ron summoned the Death Eater's wand and stumbled over the rubble closer to him. With a shaking hand, he unmasked him to find the empty eyes of Mr. Goyle Sr. staring at him.

"He is dead," he whispered to himself.

"Better him than you," snarled Ginny from behind. She hugged her brother and walked him slowly back home.

They joined Arthur who was talking in hushed tones with Kingsley and an unknown tall Auror.

"Senior Auror Stanford Lucas," whispered Tonks to them.

"A busy night?"

"Arthur, you can't even start to understand," sigh Lucas. "We lost an Auror and had two wounded at Harry's place. The young bloke was a lot of help there. Saved my own neck, he did. Lost an Auror at the Diggory's, had three wounded at the Abbots. We couldn't save the mother of the family there. I feel totally drained. I just want to crawl into my bed and sleep for a whole day. I am sorry about your home, but I must see this place as a big success. Three dead Death Eaters and four more wounded and caught, with only a few bruises on our side is a very positive outcome in my book."

"We read the same book, both of us, and don't worry with the house – we can easily repair it."

At that moment, a silvery light hit Auror Lucas. "Damn! This night is not going to end…" he turned around to his men and called, "Get ready! We are needed in Azkaban." Turning back to Tonks and Kingsley, he said, "I know that you are off duty tonight, but I need all the help I can get."

"Be careful!" Arthur managed to say, before they were all whisked away by a Portkey. "Let's go and see your mother," he said to his son and daughter, before turning around and walking towards their home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The morning table was an awkward affair. Harry was sitting at the head of the table wishing he hadn't got out of bed. He was still far from comfortable with his actions the other day and needed time to think it over. Then, too, he was so very tired. He was waiting for news from the Burrow before calling in the night, and then he heard about the Azkaban attack and about his friends going there to help, so he waited for news from them too. It was three in the morning when Remus Apparated in to tell him about the outcome of the fight. Once again, it was a very sad victory. The Azkaban prison was secured, after a long desperate fight. All prisoners were accounted for; the attacking Death Eaters suffered five casualties, and three more Death Eaters were wounded and captured. This came with a price. Two Aurors were killed and a few were wounded, though not severely. One of the wounded was Kingsley and Harry was planning a visit to St. Mungo's later in the afternoon.

On one side of the table sat the Granger family. Dan was eating his breakfast solemnly, while Emma and Hermione were bent over the screaming headlines in that morning's _Prophet_:

**Night of Terror**

**Seven civilians and four Aurors killed in a night of Death Eater attacks. Eight more Aurors were wounded. A series of coordinated attacks by groups of Death Eaters spread fear, destruction, and death throughout England last night. Private homes and Ministry institutions were attacked in an effort to terrorise the English Wizarding population. During the long night Dark Marks were raised above a few of the more prominent Wizarding families in the country. Senior Auror Stanford Lucas commented this morning that the Death Eaters' attacks were fended off in every location from which an alarm signal was sent. By the Ministry account eleven Death Eaters were killed during these raids, and seventeen more were wounded and captured. "I'm sad to call this night a victory for the English Wizarding civilisation against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters," said Senior Auror Lucas during a press conference held early this morning in the Ministry of Magic. "I promise the Wizarding population that the Ministry will fight and persecute He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and every last Death Eater with all the resources available to ensure law, order, and prosperity in peaceful times to the English Wizarding population."**

**Senior Auror Lucas and all other Ministry sources refused to refer to the identity of the casualties of the attacks. Ministry sources refused to either confirm or deny the fact that Mr. Harry Potter is one of last night's casualties. In the mean time, the **_**Daily Prophet's**_** offices are flooded with letters from devastated and desperate readers mourning the death of England's last hope against the Dark.**

"Great, now the only ones to know I'm alive are me and Tom..."

More headlines were no better:

**The end of a long line?!**

**Information has reached the **_**Daily Prophet**_**, according to which one of last night's attacks was at the manor house of the old and noble Bletchley family. Friend, colleagues, and business partners of the family confirmed that no contact was made with any of the family's members since last night. The **_**Prophet**_**'s suspicion regarding the welfare of the Bletchley family was aroused by an unsigned letter bearing the Dark Mark, which arrived at the **_**Prophet**_**'s offices late last night. According to the letter, the Bletchley line was extinguished last night as a retribution for the family's refusal to enlist in You-Know-Who's forces, and as a forewarning of the punishment due to any person or family who refuses You-Know-Who's forces. **

**Mr. Adam Bletchley was the last of a long line of potion ingredient merchants, dating back half a millennium, and a member of the Wizengamot legislative body, since the death of his father. If rumours are correct, the attack on the Bletchley family might marks the turning point in the support You-Know-Who's forces are gaining from the pureblood Wizarding families in England. The direction of this turn of tide is yet to be seen and will largely depend on the actions of the Ministry of Magic during the next few days, as well as on the fate of one Harry Potter, which has yet to be defined.**

Hermione finished reading the articles looking, if possible, even more distressed than before. "You'll need to make a public appearance soon. Maybe even write a new article for the papers."

Emma looked at Harry's sour face and gently added, "War is fought not only on the battlefield. Wars are won in the media too. Especially fights against guerrillas or terrorists. Since one can't identify the enemy by sight, one needs the civil population to identify the enemy for him and to denunciate the terrorists from the general population. For this goal, the use of public relations and media is essential."

"I don't know how to do this. I'm miserable before press reporters and I hate the attention."

Dan had been listening silently all this time. "You don't have to do this all by yourself, you know. You'll have to make the public appearance by yourself, and make a few statements, but otherwise you can get a lot of help. What you need is a public relations advisor. Maybe Emma and Hermione will be able to help you in the beginning, at least until you can find someone to do this on a regular basis."

"So." Harry addressed Hermione. "Can you write a statement draft for me? And in the mean time, I'll make a public appearance somewhere later today."

"Sure, Harry. What else do we need to do today?"

"Clean!" They heard Petunia's voice from the other side of the table, where she had sat and ate in silence with Dudley up till that moment.

Harry couldn't fault her logic. All the cleaning they had done during the year when the Order was using the house was a drop in the bucket, and it was wasted during the long year in which the house stood empty. Then there was the fact that the house was still dangerous to live in, especially for Muggles.

"Yes, Aunt. Cleaning is truly essential. The problem is that you and the Grangers can't do the work since it will be too dangerous for you to touch anything in this damn house, and Hermione and I have too much to do to allocate the needed time...I'll see about getting us some help."

"No you won't, Harry James Potter! We will **not** clean the house using slave labour."

"They're not slaves, and we don't have the time to clean it ourselves or argue about it."

**"****You can't use slaves just because they're there and it's the easy way!"**

**"Fine! We'll do it your way!"**

Harry walked angrily to the anteroom with Hermione in tow.** "Dobby!"**

"Master Harry Potter called?"

"Yes, Dobby. We'll need help cleaning and maintaining this house in the near future. Can you help us?"

"Dobby will start immediately!" enthused the little elf.

"Wait," Harry said. "You know Hermione," said Harry, noting the cold look the elf directed at her. "You'll receive payment and will negotiate the exact terms of your service with her. Is this fine with you?" he asked Hermione in an acid tone and walked out of the room without looking back.

Harry went back to the kitchen and back to his breakfast, mumbling in anger. For a while no one dared say a word.

"Where's Hermione?" asked a soft voice.

"Trying to confront some of her strange ideals, Emma," answered Harry in a little calmer tone.

For a long while voices could be heard from the adjacent room, becoming more and more desperate. Finally Hermione ran into the kitchen, obviously in tears. She stopped in front of Harry for a moment. "You now have four house-elves. Dobby will be paid nine Sickles a month, which is about half of what he earned at Hogwarts. Winky and the two others will be bound to you and will receive no money at all." For a short moment she looked at him with an accusing look and then she said, "They call me She-Who-Tricks-House-elves," she sobbed, and she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Emma looked at her husband helplessly, and at his nod she went after her daughter.

"Well, this won't do," Harry said to himself and walked into the anteroom to find Dobby smiling and looking a little smug. "Dobby, I can't accept this..."

A long quarter-hour later Harry came back to the breakfast table looking exhausted. "Dobby will earn a Galleon a month, like he did at Hogwarts. The others won't receive money directly, but a Galleon a month each will be deposited in a fund for their exclusive use. Winky and the others will be bound to me but they'll wear respectable uniforms and will have two free days a month."

"Will they clean the house?" asked Petunia, indifferent to the whole drama happening around her.

Harry just looked at her intently.

"So we can go on with our plans for the day," she said, unabashed.

"Just let me get my girl back here."

Ten minutes later Dan and Emma came back to the kitchen with a little somewhat subdued Hermione in tow.

"You'll be happy to hear that I convinced Dobby to receive the same paycheck as he did at Hogwarts, and all the others will accept the same amount to be put in a fund available only to them."

Hermione just nodded silently.

"So, what do we do today?" asked Petunia. "I need more clothes."

"We do need to see what's left of our home." Emma's voice trembled a little and Dan looked even more subdued than before.

"We should go and tend to Vernon's funeral and see what happened to our home too. Marge was sleeping there and we'll need to give her some kind of explanation." For a minute, Harry thought he saw a tear in the corner of Petunia's eye. "We need to pack, to inform friends and neighbours, advertise the ceremony, and hold a reception." There was a long silence. Finally Petunia took a deep breath and went on. "You don't want anyone to suspect anything irregular..."

Harry felt a chill creeping down his spine. This was so like his old hell. His instinct for vengeance was ready to take control. He felt Hermione's little hand in his; he looked at her with a little smile and looked back at his aunt.

"I'll call the Ministry to find out what happened to your husband's body so we'll be able to help you with all the arrangements," Hermione said gently.

Petunia looked at her and nodded her thanks.

Hermione looked like she had got herself in hand. "Then, Harry," she said, "we need to start our work. We need to train and we need to make our plans and we need to make haste."

"So," said Harry, looking at his friend thankfully, "(a) clean; (b) salvage; (c) train; (d) make plans. Remus—can you come with us today? I'll Floo the Auror department," he said, noting Remus's nod. "Hermione, can you and your parents be ready in twenty minutes? Petunia, go outside with Remus and call Marge at the house. Tell her you and Dudley are at the hospital and will be home in about an hour. I'll Floo Tonks and ask her if she can help us today so we'll be able to be in two places at once." He stopped to see everyone's eyes trained on him. "OK, I'll stop giving orders. Are you fine with this plan?" He looked at the shocked nods around the table and Hermione's little smile. "Let the day begin, then," he said and walked to the fireplace.

Fifteen minutes later Harry found everyone at the entry hall. Remus was going with the Grangers to their home, while Harry was to Apparate with Petunia and Dudley to Privet Drive, where Tonks was waiting.

They were opening the front door when two owls flew in with official looking parchments tied to their legs. One of them read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you have performed magic on a few occasions in the last day, including in a Muggle-inhabited area, and in the presence of Muggles. To our knowledge, some of the magic performed by you was fatal to other wizards. _

_As you have received a few previous official warnings, and your use of magic was continual during the last day, you are hereby summoned to an official disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic, today at 16:30. _

_You are hereby formally warned against any further use of magic until the hearing is held._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

"You won't believe the bloody gits…" he said, taking the other parchment and impatiently breaking the seal.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that a house-elf of your household has performed magic causing harm to..._

"I don't have time for this!" he cried, and with a flick of his wand the two letters were torn through and in flames in the fireplace.

"Remember Moody," he told Hermione quietly, pulling her aside. "Call me when you're finished, or if you need any kind of help."

A little hug later and they were on their way.

The morning seemed to drag on forever. They took a Portkey to Privet Drive and drove Vernon's car to the funeral home, where Tonks was already waiting. She was wearing a black business suit and her dark blue Auror dress cloak, slightly modified to not look out of place in the Muggle neighbourhood. Her appearance was similar to the look she had worn at King's Cross train station, with her aristocratic looking long blond hair, dark blue eyes and thin, tall, upright posture. Harry walked towards her smiling slightly, noting the appreciative looks she was receiving from the surrounding people.

"This look grows on you," he said. "I wish you'd let me see the real you someday."

Petunia listened to this, perplexed, and then extended her hand to the other woman. "Thank you for your help, Ms...Tonks?" She saw the small nod from Tonks and said, "You were one of the officers who came with Harry to help protect us at the train station."

"Yes. The other one was killed at your place last night," she said. "Her funeral will be held at three o'clock in the afternoon, today."

Petunia was lost for words and just nodded her understanding.

"I'm sorry, but I needed to say I'm a distant relative of yours so they'd let me stay here without you. Mrs. Marjorie Dursley was a bit vocal in the beginning. She's now asleep in the waiting area, right through these doors."

Petunia nodded again. "Thank you for the help," she said, and after a thought she added, "and my condolences."

Tonks lead the way through the main doors. "The body was restored so no physical damage will be visible, and there are apparent signs of heart attack. I filled out the appropriate papers from the local hospital both here and in the hospital archives."

Petunia thanked her again and reluctantly approached the sleeping form of Marjorie Dursley. "Marge?" she said. When no response came she tried to wake her sister-in-law a bit more assertively and looked at Harry hopelessly.

Harry smiled and mumbled, '_Ennervate_' under his breath, pointing his concealed wand at Marge.

Marge woke with a start.

Sadly, her first sight was Harry, and for a minute he was sorry for having revived her.

"Marjorie!" said Petunia. "This is the funeral house and I won't have you screaming around here!" This was enough to stop Marge's shouting, though not necessarily the angry staring.

"What are **you** doing here? Go back to the house. We can't bother with the likes of you today."

It took a bit of persuasion and a lot of assertiveness on Petunia's part to persuade Marge that Harry and his friend were there to stay.

The rest of the morning was busy with funeral planning, writing and publishing an obituary, arranging the house for the guests, coordinating refreshments, and packing for Petunia and Dudley's stay with Harry. Fortunately, all this was much easier to do with the help of magic, though it forced them to play interference with Aunt Marge in order to prevent her from noticing the "unnaturalness" happening all around her. Harry was tempted to just Stun her and modify her memory of the day later on, but a stern look from Petunia stopped him in his tracks.

"You remember those cold things from last summer?" Dudley asked him when Harry sat down beside him to rest for a minute. "This is what they made me think about," he continued, noting Harry's nod. "About me losing my father and discovering, after all these years of my parents' praise that I'm completely useless..."

Harry didn't even have the will to try and look sympathetic.

Packing was a much simpler affair. Petunia and Dudley each prepared a huge pile of clothes and artefacts, and Harry, in his turn, packed it all neatly inside a small travelling bag he found in his aunt's wardrobe. Just before lunch they said their farewells to Tonks and took Vernon's car for the two-hour drive to London. Harry was left in the house with an angry Aunt Marjorie. He let her punish him and confine him to his room without lunch and Apparated to Hermione's place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Emma, Dan, and Hermione stood for a long while in front of the ruin that was once their loved and well-kept home. Hermione watched as her father lost his composure and sat on the ground, weeping for the home he had built with effort and love for his family, and lost in a minute. Emma was standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder, silently supporting him, while holding back the concerned neighbours from her distraught husband. For once in a long while, it was her role to be the anchor for her family.

"We don't really know. The Fire Brigade says it was a gas accident. Luckily we weren't home at the time...

"Thank you. We're staying with some our family in London until the time we can rebuild our home...

"Yes, thankfully we took care to be fully insured..."

In the mean time Hermione walked amid the rubble looking for any salvageable items. She managed to escape her parents' concerned neighbours, and the few spectators of her age kept their distance from her. She had never been a popular girl in her primary school, and never kept in contact with her schoolmates after starting Hogwarts. She was struck by the fact that without Ron and Harry, probably Harry alone, she would have been a very lonely girl. A very dead girl, her conscience nagged her. Ron, as dear as he was, would never have thought for himself to go and look for her in that girl's toilet. She was lost at the sight of her broken dad and, against all logic, felt very guilty about the destruction of their home and about the fact that she couldn't see the place as **her** home any more. She just kept walking among the ruins, watching her parents and their neighbours interact, for a very long time, feeling useless and waiting for her parents to get ready to leave.

"Anything salvageable?" She heard a familiar voice from behind. In a split second she was in his arms crying. For a long while he just held her in his arms, soothing her flurry of emotions.

Finally she looked in his eyes. "What happened at your place?"

He gave her a wry grin. "As you can see, I'm now locked in my room without food or water, waiting for Aunt Marge to kindly free me from my prison tomorrow after Vernon's funeral. All morning long I just wanted to Stun her, lock her in the cupboard under the stairs, and give her new memories of a lovely service for her brother tomorrow evening. Tonks and Petunia had to work hard to persuade me not to."

"I see what you mean," she silently sighed. "All I wanted, all morning, was to shoo all my parents' friends and relatives away, put a Notice-me-not charm around the yard, and try a strong Reparo on the house."

"Let's go talk to them," he said and took her hand.

"You'll laugh at me, but all morning I've been fighting the thought that all this is my fault."

"Sorry, I'm too familiar with the feeling of unjustified guilt, and in no mood for laughter today."

After a long silence she said gently, "Most of my guilt is about me not being able to see this place as my home any more. I've left my parents' world and the Wizarding world won't accept me."

"We'll make them accept you—together, Hermione," he told her silently.

"We have nothing more to do here," Emma said as she approached. "Do we have time to stop on the way to buy a few things we need?"

"Sure, let me just ring Petunia. I don't want her to get into that house with no wizards around."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was later in the afternoon, when the much encouraged Grangers and one neatly dressed Harry met with Petunia and Dudley to help them into the dark house at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was taunting her parents amicably about them forgetting to pack their toothbrushes, while Harry was trying to hide his satisfaction with his new clothes. It wasn't much, just a pair of dark blue jeans, black T-shirt, a black jacket and trainers, but for the first time he could remember Harry was dressed in a manner that didn't make him embarrassed to show his face or his attire in public.

"Nice clothes!"

"Thanks, Dudley," Harry said with a proud smile. "And it fits!" he added without thinking.

Petunia had the decency to blush and look the other way. It took several moments for the uncomfortable silence to reach Harry and erase his cheerful mood.

He threw Petunia an accusing look. "Fine, let's just get in."

For the last sixteen years or so, ever since the death of Mrs. Walburga Black, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had had a life of its own. First the house was left empty, inaccessible to all persons not of the Black family. Then the dark and evil house was permitted to keep deteriorating at an accelerated rate. The deterioration had begun on the eve of Mr. Orion Black's life. The Black family house was almost empty of inhabitants by then. Sirius ran away as soon as it was possible for him. Regulus was trying to make his career in the Dark forces. Mr. and Mrs. Black were left alone in the big house, without family and with very few acquaintances in a backsliding Wizarding world full of Mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors. Mr. Orion Black occupied himself with strengthening the house, making it more isolated and Dark. All the while Mrs. Black was ranting and cursing and making the place even more unpleasant, if such a thing was possible. During the years after Mrs. Black's demise, the house deteriorated into chaos. Under the sole control of the old mad house-elf, and with the influence of the equally mad portrait of Mrs. Black, the house was infested with insects and other creatures, mostly magical, and of course the dust took over. They say a house is an image of its owner. When it comes to magical houses, this is even more true.

Under the command of the ever formidable Mrs. Weasley, they spent a whole summer fighting the house, and losing miserably. To be frank, Harry was now certain that the whole idea of making a bunch of teenagers try to clean a rogue magical house without the use of magic was merely an attempt to keep them too busy to mind the Order's business. More elaborate efforts at bringing the house under control that were made by the Order's members—mainly Sirius and Remus—using stronger magical means hardly put a dent in the house's fighting spirit. Harry was actually surprised that the house hadn't cost them any casualties. On second thought, maybe Sirius was one, Harry thought with a pang.

Opening the front door, Harry froze in place. It took Harry a great effort to reconcile the sight before him with the house he had left that morning. The entrance hall's hardwood floor was burnished to a warm glow and the light green wallpaper looked like new. The black marble fireplace shone with polished inlaid silver ornaments. As they continued into the beaten house, they could see that the dirt, darkness, and depression had been replaced with shining cleanliness, bright light, and cheerfulness. All Harry could do was to walk the ground floor speechlessly and look around in wonder.

"The little creature with the pointy ears did all that with his friend in a single day?" asked Petunia, looking around mesmerised. "It's like magic!"

Hermione couldn't hold back her laughter. "Where is Dobby?" she asked. "We should thank him."

"Dobby!"

"Master Harry Potter sir called?" said a small timid voice after a soft _pop!_

"Winky! You did amazing work here today. Thank you! Do you know where Dobby is? We wanted to thank him, too."

Winky definitely looked anxious. "He went to the Ministry, sir."

"The Ministry? What the hell for? Oh, bloody hell! Everybody, stay here please. Hermione, can you come with me?" A few seconds later they arrived by Floo in the Atrium and stormed through the security stand, Harry ignoring it completely and Hermione looking apologetically at Eric, who hardly had time to rise to his feet before they were gone into one of the elevators. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was located on the fourth floor of the Ministry.

Originally, the Department had been established as a mean to facilitate the cooperation and coexistence between the main magical races—Elf, Man, Goblin, Centaur, and Vampire—as well as to exact effective measures of control on the dangerous beasts out there. Obviously, no one wanted a rough Chimera or other similarly dangerous beast roaming around the country. Somehow over the years men had made the Department into their tool for the oppression of other magical beings. It had all started about fifteen hundred years ago with the disappearance of the elves. During the course of about three centuries, all wood-elves had disappeared from the face of earth, leaving behind only their unassertive, timid, and eager to submit and serve relatives, the house-elves. With the elves gone, the world was left as a realm of Men. The Centaurs were scholars and formidable warriors, but never leaders. They left the political struggle in the hands of Men and soon found themselves pushed out of any posts of power or stature. In return they cut themselves off from the world of men and slowly, over hundreds of years, their numbers diminished as their natural habitat was destroyed by Muggles all around the world, and little to no support was offered them by wizards. Vampires had never been numerous during any age, which left only the Goblins to oppose Men. During a series of bloody wars, men and Goblin fought for freedom and dominance. "Goblin rebellions" the men called these wars, since the name dictates the opinion and the victors choose the name. Men won marginally, due to sheer numbers. It wasn't a decisive victory, and the Goblins were left with autonomy and control over all money related affairs; but it was victory enough for men to rewrite the history books.

All this was the handiwork of the illustrious group of wizards now known as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Being the victors, the Department slowly degenerated and nowadays occupied itself with research on new ways to oppress all creatures and beings that were not Men, the erosion of the Goblins' autonomy, and reading their self-made history books.

Harry and Hermione stormed through the empty Department to find an interrogation room at the far side.

"…of excessive force against a human resulting in that individual's death. The punishment for this offence is death. We can not let you lowly elves forget your stature, can we?" They heard a cold voice from the room. "You are hereby sentenced to death by decapitation, to be executed immediately."

"Do you wish to resign your employment with me?" Harry asked, stepping into the room.

"No, Master Harry Potter sir," answered a sobbing elf.

"Then I expect your obedience. Go to the house, **now!**" Dobby was shocked for a minute and then disappeared with a soft _pop!_

"Now, Mr. Potter, you can't barge in here and interfere with the lawful operation of this Department. I demand that you call your elf back here immediately for the execution of his sentence."

Hermione barked a cold laugh. "Dobby was defending our friend—a son of a Ministry member—against an attack by Death Eaters. He saved the boy's life and you're concerned with the life of the Death Eater? Was Goyle a friend of yours? We know that you employed the Death Eater Walden Macnairhere in this Department as an executioner. What a fitting job for a terrorist on a leave."

"Listen here, child," said Randell Maddox, walking towards Hermione threateningly. He took out his wand, only to stop dead in his tracks with Harry's wand pressed to his throat.

"Let us see here," Harry said with a mockingly joyful tone, rolling up the man's sleeve to reveal a Dark Mark. "What a lovely Department we have here," he said sarcastically.

All present were frozen for a very long moment, until Mr. Maddox made his second mistake. In a blink of an eye he turned and tried to take a shot at Harry, only to finish his turn without his head. There was another long moment of shock and then the room lit up with a blur of spells. A lady sitting in the corner threw a dark-blue curse at Hermione, forcing her to dive to the floor. Harry retaliated with an un aimed Reducto, which nevertheless took off the witch's wand arm, sending her screaming to the wall behind her. He then had to dive for cover himself to hide from a barrage of spells sent toward him by an elderly wizard standing off to the side of the interrogation room. However. these spells were all observed from a sphere-like shield which formed around his body. Another Reducto from Hermione took care of the elderly wizard too. A few seconds later the silence in the interrogation room was disturbed only by the sobs of the witch in the corner.

**"What do you think you're**** doing?"**

Hermione and Harry turned to see the Minister of Magic standing at the door, flanked by two Aurors holding drawn wands.

"Mr. Llewellyn! Mrs. Coolen! Is this Mr. Maddox? What did you do?"

Harry picked up Mrs. Coolen's hand from the floor, while Hermione put the woman under stasis pending medical treatment. "Nice Department you have here," Harry said to the Minister, handing him the arm which clearly showed the Dark Mark. "Mr. Maddox had one, too. I didn't have the time to check Mr. Llewellyn's body, but all three of them attacked us first, as the rest of the people here can tell you."

"Mr. Potter, you and your friend here are hereby charged with attacking Ministry employees with deadly force. You are also charged with unauthorised use of underage magic, unlicensed Apparation, and breaking and entering. Please hand over your wands to the Aurors here." The Aurors there certainly looked very uncomfortable.

Harry had had a long day. He was tired, he was angry, and he didn't have the patience to be polite. "Listen to me carefully, Mr. Scrimgeour. It's been two years since the incarnation of Voldemort, during which the Ministry did nothing to oppose him and his men. First, Minister Fudge wasted a whole year slandering me and Professor Dumbledore and denying Voldemort's return. Then you come along and try to enlist me into your PR machine, while arresting an innocent bus conductor in order to show the public that the Ministry is doing something, while actually doing nothing to fight Voldemort. I've had enough!

"I'm going to fight Riddle to his death. I suggest you and the Ministry do the same, starting with purging the staff of your own Ministry. Know this—I'll be happy to fight Voldemort together with a dedicated Ministry. I will do so without the Ministry's help, and if needed I'll fight my way to him through the Ministry."

With that, Harry took Hermione's hand and disappeared from the room.

Minister Scrimgeour looked around the room, thoughtful. "Auror Berne, please see that Mrs. Coolen receives medical attention and then arrest her. Auror Travers, please see that all senior Aurors are present in my office tomorrow at ten in the morning. We have some work to do."

Back at the house Hermione and Harry sat for a long while, holding each other in silence, for comfort.

"Thank you. You probably saved my life there," Harry finally whispered.

"You've saved my life plenty of times. We don't do this kind of arithmetic between us, Harry."

"I wasn't expecting this. I expected the argument and the need to flee from there, but not the Death Eaters or the fire-fight."

"Neither did I, but this is war. Maybe we should expect Death Eaters and fights everywhere from now on."

"You're probably right. How do you feel?"

"I don't know. I'm still working it up."

"My advice to you would have been to just sweep it under the rug and ignore it, so this is probably the wrong way to do this. You know, I just feel so wrong. This is so far from the person I have always imagined myself to be that I almost can't look myself in the mirror."

"Sadly, now I can understand clearly." Hermione snuggled closer to his warm body. "I need to sleep on it, so I'll go show my face downstairs and be off to bed—but we'll talk it over tomorrow, right, Harry?"

"It's probably the best thing to do."

They found the "adults" sitting in the dining room, having late afternoon tea in the bright, clean room which, in Harry's eyes, was the antithesis to everything this house represented for him. They all looked like an old fashioned, well off family, relaxing together, living their lovely life.

"Where's Dudley?"

"In the afternoon we found a nice Internet café, not far from here. He went there with his computer."

"I don't think I can sleep yet, so I'll go for a cuppa. Can anyone explain to me where it is?"

The coffee house was pleasantly worm and cosy, and full of cheerful young people. Apparently in the last few years the neighbourhood was targeted by students and other young inhabitants escaping the high cost of living of the more established quarters of the city, while still looking for a home inside London. The place was full of the soft sounds of light conversation and laughter and was exactly what Harry needed to tense down. He found Dudley sitting in the corner, concentrating on his computer, and took the armchair next to him. For almost an hour Harry just sat there in silence, cradling his cup of coffee and looking around the room.

Finally Harry paid attention to what Dudley was doing. He was playing some sort of computer game which involved killing many German soldiers. Apparently the Germans were fair game in the computer game industry. "What is this game?"

"It's called 'Call of Duty' and it's the best shooter around. There's a sequel in the market, but this is a portable computer so the newer game is too heavy for it."

That was much too much information for Harry.

Dudley gave his cousin an amused look. "Do you want to try for yourself?"

Harry tried the game for half an hour. It was sort of fun, but after a short while he found himself getting killed again and again early into every new stage. "This is fun, Dudley, but am I doing something wrong?" For the next few hours Harry received a thorough walkthrough of the game.

"You can't just run into the fire, shooting in every direction. First you should hide. As long as they don't see you they don't attack you and you get more time to prepare and make plans. Then you're far better off shooting at them from behind a shelter than running toward them in full view. Secondly, you need to choose the right weapon for each task. Look here, you can pick up a long range gun with a sniper's sight. That way you can shoot all these Germans across the street lying on the ground behind shelter where they can't hurt you. See, here there are too many enemy soldiers, moving too fast for you to follow them with the sniper's sight, so just grab the machine gun and block their way. Here you have a large group of enemies behind this wall. You can probably try and fight them all, but you'd be better off to throw a grenade or two above the wall and then look around with a small weapon, dedicated for short distance fighting, like a submachine gun..."

It was long after midnight when Harry and Dudley finally got ready to walk back home. Harry was tired and pensive. It was just a computer game, but it had certainly made him think. "Thanks, Dudley. It was entertaining." He stood, put his hand into his pocket, stopped, and looked at Dudley, embarrassed. "Do you have any money on you? I don't think they'll accept mine," he said, taking out a large gold coin.

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AN – I know that CoD is way out of timeline, but it was a good example and wasn't important enough for me to go and look for the war shooter of the middle '90s.

Thanks a lot for anyone who actually reads this ;-)

Niv


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Alive!**

**Hopes of the entire English wizarding community recuperated as undisputed proof regarding our saviour's health reached the general public. After a long day of uncertainty and despair, Mr. Potter made a resonating personal appearance late yesterday evening. Mr. Potter, together with his long time friend, Ms. Granger, made their appearance during a disciplinary hearing held by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures of the Ministry of Magic. During that time, the juristic committee of the said department had sentenced a house-elf employed by Mr. Potter to death for the killing of the Death Eater Goyle during the fight at the Burrow, the family home of Ministry employee Mr. Arthur Weasley and his family. According to the information that reached the **_**Prophet**_**, the said death occurred while the elf was defending one of Mr. Weasley's sons against Goyle during a Death Eater's attack on their home. **

**Mr. Potter and his associate ordered the elf away, and in a firefight inside the committee's chamber, killed two of the committee's personnel and while severely and permanently injuring a third committee member. The head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Mr. Randell Maddox, was killed and later proven to be a Death Eater. Mrs. Morana Coolen, severely wounded during the fight, was also proved to be a Death Eater and was arrested immediately after receiving medical attention. There is no proof that the third casualty, Mr. Culhwach Llewellyn, was a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but clear testimony was given, according to which Mr. Llewellyn was the one to attack Mr. Potter first, and was hit in self defense. **

**In reply to the **_**Prophet**_**'s inquiry, the Minister commented that while the Ministry can not endorse any violent act by a house-elf against a wizard, the Ministry is, however, thankful for to Mr. Potter for exposing two Death Eaters positioned high in the Ministry's ranks. **

**The **_**Prophet**_** will use this stage to voice its concern regarding the purity of the Ministry's ranks and its commitment to the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the safety of our community. **

_So much for public appearance_, Harry thought to himself before raising his eyes to see a pale, tired looking Hermione walking into the kitchen. "Morning news," he told her, handed her the paper, and offered her a cup of tea (ignoring a reproachful look from Winky). "Now, more than before, we should probably publish our view of the incident, and our views regarding the war issues in general. I think the _Prophet_ will be ready to present our views to the public, as written, without submitting to pressure from the Ministry."

"After lunch I'll see if Mother and I can come up with a draft, for us to review, so we'll be able to send it to the _Quibbler_ and the _Prophet_ in the evening. In the meantime we will have a lot of—"

**"Anyone home?"**

"Ron!" Hermione got up and ran to meet him at the fireplace.

"Oh my, you don't look all that great."

"Why, thank you, love! I didn't have the greatest of nights..."

"The Ministry?"

Hermione just nodded.

"I couldn't sleep ether, and I killed a hooded and masked person from a long distance." He hugged her and helped her into the library.

Harry chose to give his friends their private time and walked out to welcome the rest of the Weasleys to his house. He found Molly standing in the entry hall, looking astounded at the bright, sparkling clean house around her.

"Molly dear, you're blocking the fireplace," he said fondly.

"This is amazing! How did you do it?" she asked, moving a little further into the room.

"We didn't," he smiled at her. "Dobby and his friends did."

"I must thank you for him. He and another elf showed up at our place yesterday and helped us rebuild. We wouldn't have finished the reconstruction of the house without them."

"You have nothing to thank me for. You should thank Dobby, though."

"I probably should. Ron told me that Dobby saved his life the other night."

They stood there in silence for a short while, looking around the room.

"Why did you make us try and clean this place the other summer?" Harry asked suddenly. "And on top of that, to do it without magic? We didn't stand a chance and could have been hurt."

"I'm sorry for that," Molly said softly. "It was Dumbledore's Idea to keep you occupied and make you too tired to interfere with the Order. I tried to convince him to let you use at least a bit of magic. With the house under the protection of the Fidelius there was no risk of the Ministry finding out."

"You mean we could have used the summer to practice and learn, instead of wasting it?"

Molly looked very uncomfortable. "We did try and argue with him—mostly Sirius. But Dumbledore didn't listen."

"He was never good at that."

Molly looked even more uncomfortable.

"I understand you have a little get-together planned here today?"

"We need to decide about the future of the Order. It isn't an invention of Professor Dumbledore, you know. It's rumoured to precede even the founding of Hogwarts."

"Do you know who is going to lead it?"

"I can't really tell. Since your mother and Frank Longbottom there hasn't been a natural leader in the Order except for Dumbledore himself."

"My mother?"

"Didn't they ever tell you just who the real leader of the pack was?" Molly asked with a shred of a smile, and walked into the kitchen.

An hour later the house was full of guests. In the kitchen the members of the Order met. The library was full with the younger generation, while the more permanent guests of the house sat in the living room. Petunia was out just then, handling all the formalities regarding Vernon's memorial service (and handling Marjorie Dursley), while Dudley hid in his room in fear of the redheaded twins.

"Do you remember Fred and George? You ate one of their sweets once," Harry told Dudley with a suspiciously wide smile. "You shouldn't be afraid of them. They're just a little enthusiastic about their pranks. I promise to counter anything they might do to you, if it won't wear off by itself after an hour or so. Oh, and you surely remember Hagrid!"

Dudley looked at the half-giant and the smiling identical twins, covered his behind with his hands, and slowly shrank out of the room to hide.

"Sorry," Harry said, noticing Hermione's glare. "I just couldn't help myself."

"Everyone's here," she said. "You can come to the library now."

In the library Harry found the Hogwarts Express group. Hermione and Ron took the loveseat, and Ginny sat on a large pillow on the floor beside them. Neville and Luna shared an armchair and George, Fred, and Susan shared the long couch, leaving an empty armchair by the fire for Harry; Su made herself comfortable behind the large desk, ready to take notes.

Before Harry even had a chance to start, an impatient knocking at the door was followed by the entrance of an uncomfortable looking Mr. Weasley and the ever stern looking Minerva McGonagall.

"Good morning, Ms. Bones, Ms. Li, Ms. Granger, Ms. Lovegood, Ms. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley. Harry, we are about to start the meeting and you are welcome to attend."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall, but as you can see, I have a large group of friends here this morning. What about them?"

"Mr. Potter, you know quite well that we can't invite them to the meeting this morning," she said, unhappy with the awkward situation she found herself in.

"Then you can't expect me to be an impolite host and leave them alone, can you?" he smiled at her.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," she said, obviously displeased with his decision. "Fred? George?"

"Sorry, Harry, we need to go to the grownup meeting," said George.

"Yes, we'll be with you kids later on," said Fred before leaving the library.

"Grownups my &#," mumbled Ron, slamming the library door behind them. "What?" he said when he turned back round to the sight of everyone's smiles.

"Ron dear, how long have you known our brothers?"

"Let's just start. Harry?"

"Our end mission is quit clear—we need to get rid of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The problem is that this goal is not that easy to achieve. Our first problem is that none of us is ready for the fight. We need to set an objective set of skills that we all need to command, and learn and practice them in a short timeframe. Our second problem is that we need a good plan. We can't fight Voldemort's war. He and his men are older and much more experienced than us; we can't hope to play their game and win. We can't fight Dumbledore's war either. It's noble and courageous, but it won't lead us to victory. Some of us here tried it in the Ministry last spring and barely made it back to tell the tale. I think we must find a new approach to magical warfare that will keep Voldemort and his men guessing. Then we need to make it clear that fighting for Voldemort is as dangerous as fighting against him. The last part is the most important secret of war. The Order of the Phoenix, down in the kitchen, knows noting about it since the only ones in on it are Voldemort, Professor Dumbledore and me, and Tom doesn't know that we know. I can't give you any more details until we clear some of the secrecy issues, but I can tell you this: We are still not certain about the reason why Voldemort's death curse rebounded when he tried to kill me sixteen years ago, but we know the reason why Voldemort didn't die from the same curse. This is something we will have to deal with before any attempt is made to kill Tom.

"One last item of information you need to know about is the prophecy:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._'

"This prophecy was made by Professor Sybill Trelawney few months before my birth. It referred at the time to two unborn children—Neville here and me." Harry stopped for a moment, hearing a gasp from Neville. "Since I have received my scar, there is no doubt that the prophecy now refers to me." The sigh of relief from Neville was palpable. Harry gave a little smile and continued. "One of Voldemort's men witnessed the first part of the prophecy, hence Voldemort's attempts to kill me as a kid and ever since. I believe he still doesn't know the full prophecy. Probably some of the people from the Order know the first part too. It's possible that Dumbledore told someone the whole prophecy without telling me. In that case I truly hope that person isn't Snape. Other than that, you are the only ones to know the whole thing."

Harry took a deep breath. "This is most of the information you need for our discussion," he said, and sat down.

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Meanwhile, the kitchen was crowded with Order members. The room became silent as Professor McGonagall and Arthur re-entered the room. She gave a slight shake of her head and the dispute went on.

"Where is Harry?" Arthur turned his head to face Remus, who was standing just behind him.

"He didn't want to come without his friends."

"Do you know about…?"

"The prophecy? I guessed it had something to do with him."

"He's a smart boy. He knows we need him much more than he needs us. Actually, he may benefit from some help from a few of us, but he has no need for the Order of the Phoenix as a group unless he becomes our leader, and we both know the chances of that."

"When did we become so obsolete?"

"Probably when The Professor decided to treat us as pawns instead of men, and decided to play politics instead of fighting a war."

"Tell me again why none of us said anything about it while The Professor Dumbledore was alive? We could have done some good before it was too late."

"Because I'm a werewolf, Sirius was a runaway convict, you're too poor to rock the boat, Minerva was too loyal, Tonks too young, and I can go on forever. Oh, and he did make wondrous use of your wife's ability to keep everyone's head down."

"She certainly has that ability, she does." Arthur smiled fondly.

"Did you know that Sirius was ready to throw the Order out of Grimmauld Place because Dumbledore refused to disclose his reasons for putting his trust in Snape?"

"Can you all pay attention, please?!" Their attention snapped back to the front of the room.

"Thank you," said Minerva as the kitchen became silent again. "We have a few important decisions to make before the Order can resume its contribution to the war effort. The first item of discussion is the leadership of the Order."

"Isn't it obvious that Harry should lead us?" came a voice from the back of the crowd.

"Harry is much too young, George. We need someone mature enough to direct the war and to direct Harry's actions."

"Sturgis means someone to command him," said Tonks.

"What if he doesn't agree to be commanded?" added Remus.

"Nonsense, he's just a kid. Alone he'll get himself killed in a week."

"It doesn't mean we don't need him," said a very reluctant Minerva. "He was meeting with professor Dumbledore, alone, all year long, and I'm afraid Harry has important information that he alone knows."

"Then we'll just have to get the information we need from him."

"Good luck trying." Tonks heard Fred's quiet voice from behind her. For the first time in a long while she found herself questioning her loyalties. She had been a member of the Order since the day she finished her Auror training, because she felt that the Ministry—and as a result, the Auror force—were not doing enough to fight the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Right now she was having the same disturbing thoughts regarding the Order. Looking around the room she found Remus looking at her, nodding his head slightly as she met his eyes. She would have to stay behind and talk with him after the meeting.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, first we need to choose our future leader," said McGonagall.

There was a long half-hour of debate before Alastor Moody was finally chosen as the leader.

"Thank you, my friends," he said, "for the trust you put in me. We have a lot to discuss and plan, but first a few of us will have to meet with Mr. Potter and reach certain agreements with him. I suggest that we disperse for today and reconvene in a week's time to make our plans."

While the Order members were making their way to the fireplace, Alastor called to Minerva, Arthur, and Molly to stay.

"Are you ready to help me speak with Harry?"

"Help you? Sure, but I'm not certain what good it will do," Arthur said doubtfully.

"Nonsense, Arthur."

On another side of the room a different conversation was held.

"Who are we going to group with Remus?"

"I don't know about you, Tonks, but Harry is my last connection to anything good that ever happened to me. He's the son of my best friend and I'll do anything to help her kid."

"You really loved her?"

"We all loved her."

They walked together to the living room. Out in the entrance hall a blaze of green fire revealed a tall, dark figure stepping out of the fireplace.

"You just missed a most enlightening meeting, Kingsley."

"You won't believe the meeting I was in this morning too, Tonks."

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"Thank you for coming at such short notice," said Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, addressing the six witches and wizards assembled in his meeting room.

The room had been scanned early in the morning to reveal a large array of listening and monitoring charms—as well as a middle-aged unregistered Animagus, who was now locked in the Ministry holding cells pending investigation. These findings, while not surprising, underlined the need for the planned action leading to the present meeting.

"We have two tasks to handle this morning. The first is to nominate a new Head of Aurors, as well as a new Head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The second task is a more sensitive matter which will be disclosed after the conclusion of the first task, and subject to the giving of a specific magical oath of secrecy by any of you who wish to participate."

"Isn't the first part a clear shot? To my understanding, Head Auror Gawain Robards here is in line to fill the role of the Head of Department, certainly during a time of war. Senior Auror Abigail Clifford is his second in command and by all rights should head the Aurors' office."

"I agree with Stanford, Minister," added Kingsley "These two people well deserve the promotion."

Gawain Robards sat in silence for a long moment. In the course of a year he had been promoted from the post of Senior Auror to the desk of the Head of Department. It wasn't that he didn't think himself worthy of the post, but one of the most remarkable witches in England had had to die in order for him to be promoted. "We have wonderful men in the department," he said, "but our main problem is that we don't have enough of them. We're down to four Senior Aurors and only about forty-five Aurors on commission. We probably succeeded in hurting You-Know-Who's forces during the last few days, but we're not winning yet, and we'll need more men in order to try and go onto the offensive. I know it's a bit of a cliché, but the department is in need of a bigger budget."

"Cliché, indeed," smiled Kingsley. "Laughter aside, we do need the men and we don't have the time to take them through the three years of regular Auror training. Maybe I have a solution here. Harry Potter was putting Hogwarts students through advanced defence training during the last school year. Maybe we should start our recruiting effort there. Potter's training is certainly not enough, but his students will have a better starting point than any others, and will probably be in the right state of mind."

"Who are we promoting into Senior Auror status?" asked an elderly woman who had kept to herself up till that time. "We need more squad leaders for both training and ops."

"Who do you have in mind, Kleio?"

"I have a very good opinion of Auror Aidan Tyler from Kingsley's team."

"I agree that he's a decent candidate, though I'd miss him on my squad."

"What do you think about promoting Auror Tonks into Senior Auror status?"

"Isn't she a bit on the young side?" asked Kleio. "Kingsley, you know her better then the rest of us. What do you think?"

"I believe that she would do wonderfully. She does need more experience, though. Maybe we should assign her a squad of new trainees and move her into ops gradually as she and her men gain experience."

"Very good idea. Head Auror Clifford will notify them in the afternoon." Rufus waited for her to nod in acceptance. "Now to more serious matters," he said, gaining their total attention. "Does anyone here object to giving a specific secrecy oath?"

The animated ambiance in the room died immediately. The oaths were administered quickly, with no one objecting, and the Minister resumed his talk.

"Yesterday afternoon I had a very uncomfortable encounter with a certain Mr. Potter. Now, it must be admitted that Potter and I didn't have a good start to our relationship. It was largely my fault, since I tried to use him for my politics and didn't do such a good job of fighting You-Know-Who back then. On the other hand, Potter had a very bad opinion of the Ministry that made him reluctant to even listen to me, and he was too caught up in Dumbledore's politics, without even knowing it. Yesterday's meeting didn't go that much better either. He was attacking me for not doing my work, while I was accusing him of disregarding the law. I have a deep aversion for people who take the law into their own hands. My main problem was that in fifteen minutes, Harry and his friend had flushed out and incapacitated two Death Eaters and an active sympathizer of You-Know-Who, all esteemed members of our Ministry staff. Hell, one of them was a head of one of the Ministry's largest departments. We're not fighting this war; we can't fight this war while we're infested with Death Eaters and their supporters; and we are going to change that starting right now.

"During the next month we will make a clean sweep of all the Death Eaters and their supporters in the Ministry organisation. I don't care about the law. I don't care about due process. I care only about the outcome. We will investigate all Ministry personnel, in secret, under Veritaserum—starting right now, in this room, with me! Does anyone here object?"

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"So, what did I miss?"

"Alastor is the new elected leader of the Order."

"It's not such a bad decision, is it?"

"He thinks he's going to treat Harry as a kid and order him around."

"Oh..."

"Then there's the issue of loyalties—many of us believe that Harry is the one to lead this war and will follow him in any case of dispute between him and the Order."

Kingsley looked intently at Remus and was met with a daring stare.

"They're on the way to speak with him right now."

"What happened at the Ministry?" asked Tonks, trying to change the topic. At that moment an owl swooped into the hall, dropping an official envelope into her hand. "I'm invited to a meeting with the Head Auror this afternoon at 16:00," she said, reading the letter. "Wow! Head Auror Abigail Clifford! Was she promoted today? How wonderful. She's an amazing woman," she exclaimed. "Interesting meeting indeed! Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Well, you'll have to wait till the afternoon."

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"'Basic set of skills'—what do we need for a start?"

Hermione was in her element. "The first thing we need is to put this place back under the Fidelius as soon as possible. I think it's important that we be able to do it ourselves."

"What's a Fidelius?" asked Su. "I don't remember reading about it."

"It's a charm to hide information in a secret keeper's mind. As long as the secret keeper doesn't disclose the information, no one can discover the hidden place or item."

"If it's a charm, we should ask Professor Flitwick."

"It's a good idea, though it's supposed to be an obscure charm."

"What else do we need to know?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Hermione, "we must know how to Apparate and create Portkeys ourselves. We also need to know about creating anti-Apparation and anti-Portkey wards. Then we need proper fighting skills."

"And we need emergency Portkeys until the time that we can make them ourselves."

"Ginny's right," said Su. "I'll ask Prof Flitwick for those too."

"We should start to work on our physical fitness," said Harry, earning himself perplexed looks from the purebloods around the room.

"What? Most Death Eaters haven't had a physical workout in years, if ever. Once we make them run for cover, they'll be out of breath in moments. If we can outlast the Death Eaters without being out of breath ourselves, we can overpower them. I'll locate a nearby gym and we'll start our days working on our fitness regimes," he said to the disgusted looks of everyone but a smiling Hermione.

"So how do we do it?"

"We'll start on our fitness training tomorrow or the day after. Su is going to contact Prof Flitwick today. I believe it's better if you can manage to meet him personally."

"I'll make a start this evening on our fighting skills list so we'll be able to start our training by the end of the week," Harry continued Hermione's sentence. "I will also speak with the twins to see what they can contribute. Their Instant Darkness Powder was amazing; we just need to make sure that their next weapons won't be used against us by the Death Eaters."

"And we desperately need a good research facility," Hermione added. "I can't see the Order people teaching us how to charm unregistered Portkeys, or letting us have unlimited access to the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' Library. Certainly not if we're not returning in the fall."

"Very true. We need a means of learning things that we're not supposed to know. Where can we find a library with emphasis on the Dark Arts?"

"Obviously there is the Durmstrang Institute."

"Right, Su, but I can't see myself going there to do research. I'd probably be too afraid to read."

"Too true," said Neville.

"I heard that the Vatican has a very respectable collection of Dark Arts books and artefacts."

"That might be a good idea, Luna—can you look into it?"

"Then there are private collections," added Neville, "though my parents' library doesn't have that many Dark Arts books."

"My auntie had a nice collection, but I think it was left at the Ministry. I'll see if I can get hold of her books. What about the Potter library?"

"The Potter library?" Harry looked at her, bewildered.

"The Potters are one of the oldest of families around. Surely You-Know-Who didn't destroy all your family's belonging that night?"

Harry obviously didn't know anything about it.

"You should visit Gringotts and ask," said Neville softly. "And while there, you should ask them about books too."

"What we really need is access to the private library of one of the old traditionalist and pureblood families. Do any of you have friendly relations with the Malfoys or Rookwoods?"

At that moment Hermione started hitting her head on the nearby bookshelf.

"Ehm, dear," said Ron, "are you quite all right?"

"Have any of you noticed where we're sitting? I can't believe how stupid and blind I can be. This is the Black family private library—they were certainly as old, rich, pureblooded and dark as any! I've been dying to take a good long look at this library for two years now, but I was stopped every time by the Order. 'Too dangerous,' they told me. What utter nonsense."

"Those were Dumbledore's orders," came a voice from the door.

They all turned to see Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Arthur at the door.

"Welcome, welcome, thank you for knocking," said Harry sarcastically. "Have a seat, please. Would you like some tea?" With a swish of his wand, a tray with a full tea set appeared on the coffee table, complete with the Hogwarts crest and a plate of biscuits. That gained a small smile from the usually strict Professor. "How can we help you?"

"Harry dear, Moody here was just elected as the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and he needs to have a word with you."

There was a long silence while Harry waited patiently for Moody to speak.

"Alone," Moody finally added.

"These are my friends, Moody. I don't keep secrets from them," offered Harry.

"These are the Order's secrets. You're not at liberty to disclose them to anyone."

"I can appreciate that," said Harry patiently, "but then it's my right not to hear them at all."

"Let us start with the plain subjects then. Will you permit the Order to keep using this house as its headquarters?"

"Sure, why not? There's a large ballroom downstairs, with its own fireplace. The Order is welcome to use it, as long as you stay inside." Harry noticed Arthur sitting uncomfortably in the back of the room, and the wide smile on Molly's face. "On a few conditions," he added, erasing Molly's smile. "First—I will be the new secret keeper for the house."

"Are you sure you want that much responsibility, dear?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure," he said. "Secondly, I want to know exactly who is using the place and have the right to veto any of those for my own reasons."

"This might be a bit of a problem," Arthur said hesitantly, glancing at Alastor.

"I can't see why I'm not entitled to decide who may enter my house." Harry continued, "Thirdly—I need the right to interrogate any user of the house, regarding relevant subjects, under Veritaserum."

Moody heaved a deep sigh and took a long sip from his flask.

"What's the problem, sir? You won't trust me enough to drink my tea, but I should trust you all enough to invite you into my house without any means of verifying your loyalties? Or even your true identities?"

"That's far enough, Mr. Potter!"

"Is it, Professor? Do I have to remind you of a certain Mr. Pettigrew? Snape? Fletcher? The fake Moody from fourth year?"

"We will have to take your conditions to the Order to vote upon, but I don't believe the order will be using this place at present under those conditions," Moody finally said.

"That's your choice, then," replied Harry. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we were in the middle of a meeting."

"You didn't have to be that harsh to them," said Hermione after the adults had left the room with a last affronted look from Molly.

Harry sighed in frustration. "I don't know any other way to gain our liberty from them, and are you ready to take chances regarding security with them?"

"Nice Transfiguration work there," Hermione added. "I didn't know you knew how to conjure multiple items with so many details all at once. And the biscuits were excellent too."

"It wasn't totally my work." He gave her an innocent smile. "I knew this was going to happen, so I asked Winky in advance to help."

"Friends," Harry added, "I need to go to my uncle's funeral. You are all invited to stay here, or come back tomorrow morning. Hermione, can you please draft the press release we talked about with your mother so we can send it in the evening? I'm sorry but I really need to go now."

"Dudley!" he cried, walking down the stairs into the hall. Remus Tonks and Kingsley were talking silently in the corner. "Hi there," he smiled to them.

"I understand you and Moody enjoyed yourselves?" Kingsley remarked.

"Very much so, Kingsley," sighed Harry. "Remus, I'm going to Vernon's funeral now. Would you mind coming with me? I'm quite afraid to be there alone."

"Sure thing, cub."

"Tonks?"

"Sorry, I must go to the Ministry to see my new boss. I'll see you both later in the evening."

A moment later they were gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm so happy that's over with." Harry dropped into an empty armchair in the living room. "And to think this is the last time I'll ever have to put up with Marge. I was so close to Transfiguring her into a toad and leaving her that way..."

"What did she do this time?" asked Hermione, smiling.

"'We should lock the boy under the stairs in his appropriate place for Vernon's sake'," he quoted in Marge's annoying voice.

The smiles were immediately erased from everyone's faces, and for a moment Harry was glad that Petunia and Dudley hadn't arrived at Grimmauld Place yet.

" Someday, long after all this is over with, we will sit together and you'll have to tell me more about your life with the Dursleys," Hermione told him softly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

It took Harry a few silent moments to shake off his gloomy mood and pay attention to the people around him. The living room was quite crowded. In one corner sat Dan and Emma, discussing something in soft voices. Another corner of the room was occupied by Tonks, Fleur, and Remus, who were having an animated conversation about the Ministry. Another part of the room was occupied by Ron, Ginny, and the twins, who were arguing about Quidditch, as usual. Molly's voice could be heard from the kitchen below, bustling about doing something.

"Didn't your mother go home after the Order meeting?" Harry asked Ginny, silently joining the teen's group.

"She tried to drag us away, and since we insisted on staying here she decided to stay too and prepare dinner."

"Harry, this is the draft of the press release you asked for." Hermione handed him a piece of parchment.

He took a short while to read it and pass it around for the others' remarks. Very few alterations later, Harry went to the fire to Floo the letter to Luna.

"Hello?"

"Oh hello, Mr. Lovegood. I'm Harry. Is Luna there?"

"She's a bit occupied at the moment, Mr. Potter. Can I leave her a message?"

"Sir, please call me Harry, I'm quite uncomfortable with being called 'Mr.' Actually, I can speak with you just as well. Here is a press release I've prepared. I'd be happy if you would agree to publish it in tomorrow's paper."

"You know, it is actually _I_ who should thank _you_."

"You really shouldn't. You printed my interview when no one else would listen. It's only natural that I should come to you with any other statements I need to publish."

"Thank you very much, then. Tell me, Harry, how much coverage would you like for the article?"

"As much as possible," Harry said hesitantly.

"I can commission the article to other newspapers as well."

"Will it be clear that it was published in the _Quibbler_ first?"

"Just let me take care of it, Harry."

"Thank you again, sir."

"Odd."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Oddmond—if I call you Harry, you should call me by my name too."

"Thanks, Odd. Please tell Luna thanks for me, and tell her that if she wants to Floo in for the evening, she is most welcome."

"Guys," he said walking back into the room, "would you like to go up to the library to continue our discussion from this morning? Remus?" he asked on his way out. "And the lovely Auror Tonks, if she will grace us with her time," he added, bowing deeply in front of her.

"That's **Senior** Auror to you, mister," she said, changing her appearance to the blond aristocratic woman, unable to hide her smile.

"This is so wonderful! When did it happen? Aren't you a little on the young side?"

"That's what my boss wanted to talk to me about, this afternoon. I'll receive a squad of new recruits; I will walk them through training and gradually into ops."

"Well then, we'll be honoured to have such a highly placed member of the law enforcement force to help us with her educated advice."

"Can I come and listen, too?"

''Sure, Dan. Any additional minds may come up with new ideas, especially since you're not stuck with the wizarding way of thinking."

Once again, as soon as the door closed behind them the atmosphere in the room changed. This was a war council and they were going to find a way to survive and win.

All through the ages, innovative military technology and tactics have been the cornerstones of military success. The intelligent combination of technological innovation with the appropriate tactical use has made empires. It probably started with the armoured chariot, which introduced mobility into warfare and was the basis upon which empires like the New Egyptian Kingdom and the Chinese Shāng Dynasty stood. Later on, the Greeks introduced cavalry into European and middle-eastern warfare, together with the concept of manoeuvre warfare, thus enabling them to conquer the known civilised world, until the Romans found a more efficient way of using the same capabilities.

Most armies learned the lesson and the art of war went stagnant for a few hundreds of years. During these years defence technology took over the military thinking, and heavily armoured knights locked themselves in heavily fortified castles and fortresses, forgetting the art of manoeuvre warfare so much that the firepower of the longbow managed to surprise a large group of cumbersome and slow knights on exhausted horses, who had never been taught that cavalry is only effective while being light, agile, and manoeuvrable.

Armies of the Middle Ages kept to their fortresses, until a new invention rocked their walls—the cannon. From that time on, military technology never stood still. The firearms decimated the large and highly trained armies of southern and middle Americas. The repeating rifle and early machine guns won the Indians wars. The Indians leaders armed their men with stolen guns and send them to die in front of the superior firepower of the white army. The developments in firepower went on and led once again to the superiority of the defence over the capabilities of an offensive army.

During the first years of World War I, while marine battles raged all around the world, ground armies were held in the frustrating standstill of the European trench war, where thousands of heavy machine guns and Howitzers kept the heads of any attacking army down. This standstill was broken only with the introduction of more innovative military technologies: the airplane and the tank. These technologies matured during World War II, reintroducing the manoeuvre warfare in the form of the infamous Blitzkrieg. The aerial warfare matured from the "air circuses" of WWI to change forever the maritime warfare together with the introduction of the aircraft carrier.

The story of military innovation can go on and on. The main point in this long history lesson is that the wizarding world had nothing to do with it. Up till the middle ages, wizarding fighting capabilities were far superior to any Muggle technology in existence. Any fairly trained wizard or witch could shield oneself from any Muggle weapon and fight to win much larger groups of Muggle trained warriors. By this time the act of secrecy had been introduced, and wizards separated themselves from Muggles. This separation, together with the wizarding contempt of anything Muggle, led to the fact that the so-called "modern" wizarding world had no knowledge of modern Muggle warfare and weapons.

"Friends, if we are to win this war we must first understand the way Voldemort is making his war. Then we will have to think of a way to force him to fight a war that we can possibly win. Tonks, Remus, will you start?"

"I don't know what you want to hear, cub. Voldemort is not making a war. His men attack isolated targets, or public places, and depend on superior numbers, chaos, and fear to reach their objectives and disappear before any defence forces can arrive."

"So no actual battle has ever been held between the Death Eaters and the Order or the Auror force?"

"Not with the Order, Hermione. We've been either chasing the wind or fighting desperate fights against superior forces, waiting for the reinforcements to arrive, ever since the first war."

"What about the Aurors?"

At that moment, an uncomfortable looking Dobby appeared in the room. After a few hushed questions Harry excused himself from the room for a few moments.

"Had a little domestic crisis in the kitchen," he said, coming back to the room together with Luna.

"What did mom do now?" asked an amused Fred. "Hi, Luna," he added.

Ginny burst into laughter. "Let me guess—she insisted on cooking in a house with house-elves?"

"House-elves never let anyone cook in _their_ kitchen," explained Ron as he noticed the perplexed looks on Dan and Hermione's faces.

"This is the only place where a 'proper' house-elf can show any kind of assertiveness in front of a wizard," added George.

"Mum should have really known better," finished Ginny.

"Maybe we should trick Voldemort into the kitchen and set Winky on him," Luna suggested.

The round of laughter was a bit liberating. "This is exactly the 'new kind of warfare' we need in order to win this," Harry smiled.

"Back on topic," said Tonks. "The Auror force met with the same problems as the Order, except they were mostly 'chasing the wind' and less waiting for reinforcements."

"How do wizards fight?"

"There's nothing much to tell, Dan. We meet someplace, usually in small groups of a few witches and wizards, and exchange nasty spells."

"What, like in _Gunfight at the O.K. Corral_?" asked Dan, not knowing whether he was more amused or amazed.

All around the room people looked at him, puzzled.

"Basically, yes, Dad," said Hermione. "It's a Muggle motion picture," she added to the puzzled crowd.

"Don't you learn any structured fighting tactics at the Auror academy?"

"Not really," answered Tonks. "We learn advanced duelling techniques and practice duelling together with a partner and even with a group of up to four people, but nothing else."

"This could be a big advantage if we can change it. What do we need to start and change the tide?"

"If we find a way for a single person to fend for himself for a few moments while marking his position, and then keep the Death Eaters in place as the cavalry arrives, we'll have a start."

"Well then. We'll continue this. Meanwhile I want Ron, Fred, and George to start thinking about weapons and ways to use them. Tonks, will you help them in your free time as you can?" He waited for her to nod. "I suggest you ask Dudley for an instructed game on his computer, for a start." He smiled at their confused looks. "Just do it", he said. "It will be enlightening."

"Hermione, Luna, can I speak with you for a moment?" He waited for the others to leave the room and sat down beside them, waiting for Hermione to create a silencing screen around them. "I really need to learn how to do this. Will you two give me your secrecy oath?"

They took a long look at each other and took their wands out.

"There are two things I need you to concentrate on: Firstly, we need a trustworthy secrecy system. We will have a few crucial secrets of war, and we need a reliable method to keep them secret while working."

Hermione and Luna nodded in agreement.

"The second thing I need you to start working on is something called Horcruxes. There is a magical process by which a witch or wizard can use a murder to split their soul and preserve one of the parts inside an object, which is then called a Horcrux." Harry could see the terror creep into the girls' eyes. "Tom Riddle went through this process five or six times on his way to becoming Lord Voldemort. That's the reason he didn't die from the rebounded Killing Curse. As long as any of Tom's Horcruxes still exist, the rest of his soul is bound to this world." Now their terror was clear and complete. "I ask you both to start working on the Horcruxes—what they might be, where we can find them, and especially how to destroy them. Tom's diary, which pulled Ginny into the Chamber of Secrets and which I destroyed using a fresh Basilisk fang, was one Horcrux. Dumbledore almost lost his hand destroying another one that was contained in a **Slytherin** ring. I don't want this to happen to any of us, and we're nowhere near as magically powerful as he was." He missed the sceptical look that Luna and Hermione shared. "If you'll come with me I'll give you the memories that Dumbledore showed me last year, so you'll have all the information that I do on the subject. I'll see to buying a Pensieve for you to use as soon as possible. I ask you not to share this information with anyone without notifying me in advance."

"Just one thing, Harry," said Luna, after nodding her understanding. "I've been thinking about this since this morning. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._' Where does it state, '_The __**only**__ one_"?

All Harry and Hermione could do was first to stare at each other, and then stare at their friend.

"This is going to be interesting," Harry said finally. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

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AN – I don't know who was the first one to call Luna's father by the name Oddmond, but it was a brilliant idea!

Who ever you are – I thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"What do I do about Hermione?"

Harry was ripped abruptly from his daydreaming. For the last hour or so he had been sitting in one of the library's armchairs, staring at an open book and doing nothing at all. His intention was to just sit alone in the tranquillity of his library and rid himself of the stress from his hectic morning. He was planning to read for a while, something that was not related in any way to the war or his schoolwork, and let his mind rest. _Hermione will be proud of me_, he couldn't help, but think to himself. It's amazing how people tend to measure themselves by the standards of the people they appreciate. His plan worked for a short time, until his mind drifted slowly into nothingness. For the shortest of moments, he resented his friend for this interruption, but soon enough, he managed to gather his thoughts. "Hermione? What do you mean, 'do'?"

"I like her, and I don't know what to do..."

Harry sighed and looked up at his friend.

"You don't mind, don't you?" Ron asked nervously.'

"Mind? Certainly not," Harry said. "Would you mind if we went out for a walk? Let me just pick up some money and we'll be off in a moment," he said, and a short moment later they were out on the street.

For a long while, they walked in silence.

"Like her?" Harry finally asked. "We're not thirteen any more."

"I know! Though she usually makes me feel like I am. Doesn't she sometimes make you feel unworthy?"

"Not really—I don't feel that way about her, and I think most of the time I'm a worthy enough friend, but I can see where you're coming from. What are you planning to do?"

By that time they were nearing the coffee place which Harry was starting to view as his 'regular'. Choosing a seat in the corner, he ordered two cups of tea for the both of them and waited for Ron to continue. There was a long silence.

"I don't really know," Ron finally answered.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not sure I know that, either. It's just that I can't see my life without her in it. Do I want to marry her?"

"Hermione is not your regular girl, you know. She won't wait for you forever. She won't let you sit on the fence for long, either."

"I know! That's why I need to do something now."

"You'll need to be careful, Ron. You've already had your first **and** second chances with her."

The silence was even longer this time.

"I was afraid that you and Hermione were together now, and I'd lost my chance," Ron finally said softly.

"I thought we were over the jealousy games."

"We are," Ron hurriedly confirmed. "It's just Hermione..."

Harry was starting to become annoyed. "Look, Ron. I'm your friend, but I'm Hermione's friend too. I told you that before. You can't expect her to sit alone in the dark and wait for you while you are trying to decide what you really want to do. I'll tell you this—if you're interested in anything happening between you and Hermione besides friendship, you need to make up your mind, and you need to do it fast. I'll say this too—Hermione is my cherished friend. Please don't hurt her. I don't want to have to choose between my two best friends."

"So what do I do?" asked Ron, nodding his head vigorously.

"You're asking **me** as the woman expert? What do I know? Did you try and talk to one of your older brothers?"

"Ask Fred and George? I'll never hear the end of it."

"No, you git. Ask Charlie or Bill."

"You know my family. We're much better at irritating each other than lending a shoulder to lean on. They'll tease me to death before telling me something productive."

"All I can tell you is that maybe you should ask her out. Take her somewhere nice and have fun. Be careful not to put too much pressure on her. You two need to build this up for a while."

Harry paid the check and they went on their way back to the house.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said as they entered the house. "I'll go and talk to her."

"Talk **with** her, I hope."

Ron nodded and started up the stairs.

"Ron!" Harry waited for Ron to stop and look at him. "Don't talk about Quidditch!"

An hour later Hermione and Ron were back to the living room talking to their parents.

"I don't want you to leave the house, Ron."

"You can't expect them to be locked in the house all summer long, Molly. Where will you go?"

Molly gave Emma a very disapproving look.

"Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, I think. We can take the Knight Bus there."

"What will we do there?"

"We can have a drink at the Three Broomsticks or even at Madame Puddifoot's, if you like." From his voice it was certainly apparent that Ron strongly preferred the former.

"Madame Puddifoot's? I'm not Lavender, if you didn't notice. And the Three Broomsticks is so school-year-like. Let's do something new."

"But where will we go, then?"

"I don't know. Where does everyone else go?"

"Either to Hogsmeade or to Diagon Alley."

"How diverse."

"You can go bowling."

"Father!"

"Why won't you go see a movie?"

"Greaet! I haven't seen a film in three years now. Do you know what's on?"

Molly looked at Emma and Hermione suspiciously. "What's a moov-ee?"

"Movie," said an amused Dan. "It's a place where teenagers go to sit in the dark and kiss."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the look Dan received from his daughter.

"What?" he added innocently.

"It's a story told by moving pictures," said a smiling Emma. "It's a bit like TV, but on a much larger screen," she added, which further confused Molly.

"Maybe you should just go to Hogsmeade," she said suspiciously.

"A movie is a great idea, Mum. Is there something good on?"

"You should go see _Toy Story_. It's hilarious, and the animation puts the old Disneys to shame."

"I think a movie is a very good idea," said Harry, before Molly had a chance to object. "It should be a lot of fun, and you'd probably better stay in Muggle London. You're not likely to meet any Death Eaters in the cinema, and you can go have a drink later. I don't think it's a good idea to call the Knight Bus to this neighbourhood, at least until we put the Fidelius back on."

"I'll just grab something warm to wear and we can be off. I'm always cold in the cinema."

"Do I need my winter cloak?"

"No, a cloak is too warm and certainly too 'wizardy' to wear to a Muggle place." Hermione stopped and looked at Ron pensively. "Thinking of that," she added, "Harry, can you help him dress for the evening?"

"Come on, mate," Harry said, smiling. "Let's get you dressed for the occasion."

The rest of the evening was calm enough. Harry had his tea in the living room, talking pleasantly with Emma and Dan, reading a book about magical transportation, and exchanging remarks with Ginny, who was sitting beside him also reading.

"Will you take me to that movie thing too, one day?"

"Gladly! Actually, I've never been to the cinema myself."

"Cinema?"

"It's another word for the same thing. You watch a 'movie' in the 'cinema', to be linguistic about it. Did you say you'd never been to a movie?"

"My relatives never let me go. I didn't have any kind of money, or any free time for myself, and they never took me with them when they went together. The only movies I've seen were on TV while all my relatives were out and forgot to lock me in the cupboard."

"Lock you in the cupboard?" asked Dan, looking pointedly at Petunia, who tried to make herself as small as possible and shrank in her corner of the room.

Harry looked even more uncomfortable than Petunia, if possible. "This really isn't important any more. I'd love to take you to a movie, if you like," he told Ginny to change the subject. "Are there other good films on, or should we go to the same one as Hermione and Ron?"

"There are lots of good films on. _Toy Story_ is very good, and I think it's good for someone like Ron, since it's not too culture-dependent," said Emma, giving Petunia a pointed look that clearly said, "You haven't heard the end of this yet." "You can see _Clueless_, too. We were laughing mad, and we're not even the right age group for it."

"So, do you want to go? We can do that tomorrow, if nothing serious arises. I just need to go to Gringotts to exchange some Galleons into pounds, since I can't ask Dan and Emma for money forever."

"You really are a burden," said Dan cheekily.

"I'd love to. Maybe we can sit somewhere and talk, too."

"Harry, do you need our help to help pay for the upkeep of this place?"

"I don't think so; anyway, you have larger problems right now, with your house destroyed."

"Are you sure? And don't be worried about us—we were well insured, and the insurance company has no way of knowing that the house wasn't blown up in an accident."

"I can't say that I'm sure. I'll go tomorrow to the bank and check on this. I know I have some money left for me from my parents and Sirius, but I've never asked how much."

The conversation in the room slowly died as everyone went back to their comfortable reading.

They were about to scatter to their rooms for the night when the front door banged open. In a split second Harry and Ginny had their wands at hand, only to see Hermione storm up the stairs shouting, "Just leave me alone!"

"But Hermi—"

"I don't want to talk to you for the rest of the night! And **Don't—call—me—'Hermi'!**" she said before storming into her room and slamming the door behind her.

Ron started up the stairs but was stopped by Harry's hand on his arm.

"What did she—" Molly started to say, but her anxious inquiry was silenced by Harry's stare.

Ron shrugged and slowly climbed up the stairs and into his room.

"Well, nothing to see here," said Harry wearily. "See you all in the morning, then." He started slowly up the stairs after his two best friends. At the top he shared a look with Ginny and then walked to Ron's room, while Ginny knocked softly on Hermione's door.

Ron was sitting on his bed, still holding Harry's new jacket in his hands, looking down at it.

"Here," he said, noticing Harry in the room. "I won't need it."

Harry folded the jacket carefully, went to the armchair in the corner, and sat down. Sometimes it was better to say nothing than say the wrong thing, and right then he didn't know what it would be right to say. Sadly enough, Harry had a lot of experience with people telling him the wrong things at the wrong time, even if for the right reasons.

"I'm so stupid!"

Harry kept on saying the right thing—which, at the moment, was nothing.

"I wanted so much to make her happy, but I just couldn't. She was angry with me from the beginning, I don't really know why. She asked me to let her do the talking, but what's a bloke worth if he can't treat his girl?"

Ron was working himself up in frustration.

"We went to this moo-vee thing, and she was so at home, and I couldn't figure out what to do. She could have sat there without me and do it as well."

"Did you like the film?"

"What? I didn't really watch. I was trying to talk with her at the time, and then they asked us to leave. Then she asked me if I want to sit somewhere and talk for a while. She wanted to do something on ice, but I didn't know how, so I didn't want to. We went to a coffee thing, like we did in the afternoon, and suddenly I got so afraid. You know, when you do something, you're occupied, but when you just sit drinking coffee, you need to find something interesting to talk about, and I freaked out. First, I tried to speak with her about us, but she didn't want to hear. Then I just talked about Quidditch and the Cannons, and the House Cup—you know. And she was trying to shush me up all the time. She didn't even let me pay."

By now Ron was crying openly.

"I so wanted to be with her, but I don't measure up. She's so wonderful, and I can't find anything interesting to say to her, to show her my worth."

Harry just let his friend unload his heart.

"You know," Ron continued, "I really thought I had a chance, but I was just deluding myself. Then I made so many mistakes. I went with Lav just to show Hermione that other girls might be interested in me, but then I just couldn't stop. And the entire homework thing—I didn't do anything because I'm lazy, and also because I wanted her attention. Instead of doing my best for her, I did my worst. Then tonight, instead of showing her that we can enjoy ourselves together, I just managed to annoy her even more."

Harry carefully sat on the bed beside his friend and put his arm around Ron's shoulders, letting him cry. Slowly, after a very long while, Ron's sobs subsided.

"I wanted it so much, but I couldn't make it be, and I've made so many mistakes. We have no chance—I have no chance now. So many mistakes…I have no chance any more..."

Late that night Harry finally left Ron sleeping in his bed. As badly as he felt for his friend, he couldn't help but agree—Ron and Hermione were probably not meant to be. Next morning would be awkward...

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The next morning was indeed awkward. First Harry saw Ginny coming up the stairs. She shrugged at his enquiring look. "You'll have to ask her yourself," she said.

In the kitchen he saw Hermione sitting at the table with her father while Molly looked at her accusingly. Meanwhile Dan was, in turn, looking accusingly at Molly, as was Winky, who had finally managed to secure her place beside the stove, to do the breakfast cooking. Harry looked encouragingly at Hermione, who managed a soft smile just before Ron walked into the room and sent her escaping up to the library, accompanied by more accusing looks from Molly. All of this was too uncomfortable for Harry so he shrugged to Ron and went looking for some peace in the living room. Sadly, peace was not to be found there either, since the room was occupied by a softly sobbing Petunia.

"This was the last time I saw Lily." She held a picture of Lily at her wedding.

"I have a few pictures from my parents' wedding, but I've never seen you in any of them. Were you there?" he asked, intrigued. From what he knew, magical weddings were very—well, 'magical', and he couldn't imagine his aunt in such a place, or occasion.

"They didn't take my picture. I had just got married to Vernon back then. When he saw the wedding he made a scene. He left in anger even before the ceremony. My relations with Lily weren't good back then. I was resentful of her for being the more beautiful and talented of us. For having a handsome and wealthy husband, and for being, you know—a witch. I kept to a corner, and nobody was interested in Lily's non-magical sister. I had a few regular pictures from that day in a small photo album that I hid in my room. Vernon burnt it the night you first went to your magical school."

"How did you manage to keep this one?"

Petunia wiped her eyes. "I hid it better, since it was magical. Look, I can hide it. _Hide_," she said, and the little framed picture disappeared. "_Show_," and it reappeared.

Harry took the picture from his aunt for a closer look. He had a picture of his mother from that day, wearing her wedding robes and with flowers twined in her hair. He thought she looked especially beautiful that way, but then he had little to compare it to, and he was certainly biased. Then, too, he preferred his picture because it showed both of his parents dancing together.

"It's certainly charmed, but why do you say it's magical?"

"Tell it to move."

"_Move,_" he said in a small voice, and saw his mother in the picture move her hands a little, and then stretch, as if the long stillness gave her back spasms. Then, she looked up at Harry and a large smile wormed her face. "Mum," he whispered.

"She sent me the picture by owl, with a letter, just after you were born. Thank God Vernon wasn't home at the time. She told me about you, and a little about the war," Petunia said, taking the picture back and looking at her sister's face. To Harry's satisfaction, Lily's smile became much colder. "She told me that if I ever was in danger I should hold the picture, together with my family, and say, 'Help me, Li—'"

"Don't say it!" Harry shouted at her, grabbing the picture from her hands, alarm sirens screaming in his mind.

"Sorry, Petunia," he added in a softer voice, noting the hurt and confused look on her face. "This might be dangerous. Please let me check on something before I give the picture back to you."

"Molly," he cried, going to the kitchen door, "where is Bill?"

"At home, dear, but he's not well yet, please don't—"

"Thanks," he said, closing the door and hurrying to the fireplace. "Bill at the Burrow" he said clearly, throwing a handful of powder into the flames. Soon enough Bill's face appeared in the green flames.

"Bill, how are you?"

"Much better, thanks. I was to St. Mungo's yesterday, and the treatment there did wonders. I'll have some scars, but Fleur isn't going to marry Moody any more," he smiled.

"I'm so happy! When is the wedding to take place?"

"Sometime in the fall. Don't tell Mum, but it's going to be in France, for the whole security thing—also, I'm sorry to say, to prevent Mum from cooking. I don't think the mother of the groom should be in the kitchen during the wedding."

"Hey, I won't say a word, but I wouldn't want to be in your place."

"A coward—I knew it!" Bill laughed. "How can I help you today?"

"Can you recognise a Portkey? I have something I need to check; I'll find my cloak and come to the Burrow in a few minutes."

"No, let me come to you. I really need to get out of this place. Be with you in a minute."

In a few moments they heard loud voices from downstairs.

"Leave me alone, Mum!"

"It's your fault. You know he isn't strong enough to leave home!"

"Leave Fleur alone too, Mum. I've told you already, I'm all right. I think we'll be moving back home this evening."

"Home? You _are_ home! What did she tell you?"

"It's not about Fleur, Mum. It's about you suffocating us all. None of us is eight years old any more, and even then you were exaggerating. Now I'm sorry, but Harry needs my help."

"Sorry," said Harry quietly as Fleur and Bill entered the room.

"It's nothing to do with you. This particular pot has been boiling for a year now, and the last month has only made it worse. Never mind—what do you have here?"

"Can you please check this picture for a Portkey charm?"

"Polite, aren't we?" teased Bill, but he waved his wand over the picture and mumbled a few unintelligible words. "Yep, a Portkey," he said as the picture briefly radiated blue. "Look, it's simple. You wave your wand above the object in a circle or a triangular form, it doesn't matter, and say '_R__avelo_'. The object will radiate green if it's clean, or a variety of colours if not. Look." He repeated the spell above the fireplace mantle stone, which radiated purple. "A permanent wax charm," he said.

Harry tried the spell and found his watch radiating green. He tried it once again and made a picture radiate blue.

"You should know that most wizarding artefacts are charmed in one way or another, but better safe than sorry. If an object glows red, it usually means you don't want to touch it without an expert checking it for you first. Do you want me to cancel the charm?"

"No; at least not yet," Harry said. "It's a picture that was sent by my mother to my aunt and I think it activates with—what were the words again?"

"Help me, Lily," Petunia said softly.

"I think we should try it to see where it leads."

"Taking unknown Portkeys is a risky thing," said Bill.

"But it's Harry's mozzer's Portkey," offered Fleur.

"Even so, taking it alone wouldn't be smart at all."

"I was thinking of asking you to come with me, if you're feeling well enough."

"I thought you'd never ask," Bill smiled. "Even so, I'd prefer to have another person with us. A three-man team is standard at work. One to lead, one to warn of danger, and the last to Portkey them out when they fuck up."

"Remus?"

"Ask him."

A short conversation later and Remus was on his way.

"Harry?" Petunia asked in a small voice.

"Sorry, Petunia. Let me try to explain. You know about Portkeys already, right?" Petunia nodded her head silently. "It appears the picture Mum sent you is one. It activates by holding it and saying the phrase you said earlier out loud. Mum probably was giving you a way to escape danger, but it's a long time since the picture was charmed, and we don't know where it leads. There might be danger there too, by now. We'll go investigate as soon as Remus gets here."

Again, all Petunia could do was nod in understanding.

They all walked down the stairs and went to the entry hall to welcome Remus to the house.

"Welcome to the ancient and most noble house of Black," Harry said mockingly, watching Remus stumble out of the fire.

"The house of Black certainly looks better these days," Remus answered with a smile. "Can the noble house of Black offer a tiered traveller a small bite of breakfast?"

"Most certainly, if only the said traveller is courageous enough to enter the kitchen."

"What's happened, pray tell?"

"Well, Ron took Hermione out on a date last night, and it didn't turn out that well."

"What did the little boy do?"

"I'm not completely sure, Fleur. I've only heard Ron's side of the story, and I must admit I'm almost afraid to hear Hermione's. You can ask her while we're gone. I'm sure she'll be happy to talk with someone feminine who isn't a Weasley right now."

Fifteen minutes later they were ready to go. Bill, Harry, and Remus stood in a triangle, back to back. All of them held their wands out, all were Disillusioned, and they each kept a hand on both the picture frame and on a long rope which Bill had conjured and turned into a Portkey to take them back home.

"One last reminder," said Bill. "When we get there, no one releases the rope or turns around. Each one watches his part of the surroundings for any kind of danger. If in doubt, we call it off. If all is clear we can look around, but we don't release the rope until I say we can. And last—no one touches anything without clearance! Are we all clear?"

"What's going on?" asked Ron, who had just come down to the hall from his room.

"We're going to investigate something related to my parents," Harry told him.

"I'll come with you," Ron said, starting up the stairs to get his cloak.

"Sorry, brother, this is a three-man formation and you're not trained enough to replace one of the more experienced men—or to come as a forth without getting underfoot, in case of trouble."

"What do you think you're doing? You're not healed enough to leave home, much less go on dangerous expeditions, and you can't take Harry anywhere dangerous—he's just a kid!"

Bill just looked his mother in the eye and said, "Help me, Lily." They were all whisked away, leaving behind a very angry and frustrated Molly and a jealous Ron.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The place where they appeared was a textbook example of the term dichotomy. The place had obviously been uninhabited for quite a while, but on the other hand was extremely clean. Furniture had been thrown and overturned all around the room, tableware was scattered on the floor, and a hole was open in the ceiling, through the first floor and out of the roof. On the other hand, the objects themselves were in pristine condition; nothing was broken or even dusty, and Harry couldn't see any sign of rain having come through the broken roof.

"What is this place?"

Remus let go of the Portkey, receiving a reproachful look from Bill; next he cancelled the Disillusion charm and looked glumly around. "This is James and Lily's cottage in Godric's Hollow, where you lived until—well, you know when..."

"Let's look around."

For a while they all walked around, being very careful not to disturb the place in any way. Harry tried to imagine the same room tidy, with a warm fire blazing in the hearth and a comfortable family living around. On the wall, above the fireplace, hung a portrait of an elderly woman in an evening dress. Looking carefully, Harry found her to be somewhat familiar. It seemed that all the people walking around in the house had woken her up. She opened her eyes and Harry found himself caught in the woman's brilliant green gaze. For a very long moment they both stared at each other. The portrait lady was the first to finally speak: "Who are you people? There is no one alive here; and no one is permitted in."

For a moment Harry didn't know what to say. He just kept looking at the lady, trying to decide who she might be.

"James?" she asked quietly. "You can't be James." She continued speaking, mostly to herself. "He was much older, and the tall man killed him right here. Then he went upstairs..." Harry could see tears starting in the old lady's eyes.

"I'm Harry. Who are you?"

"Harry! The large man came down with a bundle, and he said that he must take you to Petunia, but I couldn't see if it was you, and he wouldn't listen or talk to me. Do you live with Petunia? Did she take care of you? I miss her so much. Lily said she tried to ask her to come here to talk to me, but Petunia wouldn't even talk to her."

Harry was so shocked he didn't know what to say. "Yes, I live with her, but who are you?"

"Heather, Heather Evans. I'm Lily and Petunia's mother."

"Grandmother? But—a wizarding portrait? I thought you weren't magical."

"I was sick, and no one could help me—not even the nice Healer Lily took me to see. She said that usually a Healer helps the body's magic to heal itself, but since I wasn't magical she had nothing to work with. Petunia was so angry. And I didn't want to die. You and Petunia's son were about to be born and I wanted to know you. Then Lily suggested this. She said I would be here to know you in a way, and that I would be able to go and visit other portraits, and I accepted. Then Petunia refused to even talk with Lily, and that man came, and I've been so lonely ever since..." Now she was openly crying.

"Please don't cry, Grandmother," he softly said. "I need to go and have a look around here, but then I'll come back and take you to see Petunia. I think she is much more open to new and magical things these days. Just wait a little while longer. Please?"

The portrait nodded through her tears and Harry went on exploring. The first floor was much more orderly than the living room. Harry found Bill browsing curiously through the library.

"It's not that large, but it holds some _very_ interesting books. Look, this book is the potion lab journal of Nanaia Combs. She was the granddaughter of Rowena Ravenclaw and is very famous for her researches. I only know of works by her students. This Tom is really priceless. I know a certain Potion Master who would die for a chance to have a look at this book."

Harry's face darkened. "Maybe I'll let him have a look, then."

In the next room Remus was sitting near a large desk looking at a wall covered with pictures and artefacts, his eyes glittering suspiciously. "Sorry, Harry," he said, wiping his face. "This room is a bit like diving into a Pensieve full of old memories. Look, this is a picture from our graduation." In the picture Harry could see Remus, Sirius, Peter, and his father James standing proudly and waving to the camera. Another picture showed the Gryffindor Quidditch team winning the House Cup; a seventh-year James was flying in circles around the staff stand, waving to the crowd, while Sirius hovered nearby waving his bat and a younger Professor McGonagall stood and clapped her hands, a tiny twitch at the corner of her tight lips. Harry couldn't help smiling. On another wall he could see his father's Quidditch cups and medals. Above it hung two racing brooms, polished to perfection. On the third wall hung a mock coat of arm, which resembled the Hogwarts coat of arm, but with a dog, stag, wolf, and rat instead of the founders' symbols. Around it hung the pictures of the Marauders. Without saying a word, Remus reached out and took Peter's picture off the wall, dumping it in the garbage can. "You should take a look at your father's desk sometime soon," was all he said.

The next room was Harry's parents' bedroom, which was almost undisturbed and looked as if it was waiting for them to come back that night. Next was a guest room and at the end of the corridor was the room Harry knew best. He had seen it many times before in his memories, every time he was around a Dementor, but in the memories he never took his attention from his mother. This time he took his time looking around. The walls were covered with pictures of stars, comets, and many kinds of flying magical creatures. In the corner of the room lay the wreckage of a baby's cot. Near it were shelves loaded with books, animated dolls, and toys. It was like his dream ideal of what a child's room should be, and it was **his**. This was the room and the life Voldemort had stolen from him, and Harry was getting angry. He stood there in his room getting more and more worked up, letting his magic loose around the room, fluttering the drapes like a wind was blowing and raising dolls from the shelves, until he felt Remus's hand touch on his shoulder softly.

"It's not a good idea to let so much power loose indoors or with company. You don't want to destroy the place, do you?"

Harry nodded slowly, and went silently downstairs.

"What was that?"

"That was Harry getting all worked up."

"That was frightening!"

"Yep. Now we need to find a way to help him get that under control."

"It's always a game of trial and error. I just don't want to be around for the error part..."

On the ground floor, Harry was looking out a window. What he saw made him open the broken kitchen door and step out to the back yard.

Behind the cottage, across a wide green field, stood a cross between a medieval castle and a large mansion. On the right he saw the round hoops of a full-size Quidditch pitch. The whole thing looked surreal, like a page from a legend come to life. The cottage was the gate house, sitting comfortably by the wide gravel throughway that led to the mansion.

"Remus, Bill, can you come out here please?"

He heard their voices as they emerged from the house, looking for him.

"What is this?"

"That's the Hollow's wood. That path to the right leads to James's Quidditch pitch, and I understand your parents' graves are somewhere along the way."

"My parents'—no, I'm talking about the castle!"

Remus and Bill exchanged a confused look. "You see a castle here?" Remus finally asked.

Harry nodded.

Bill took few hesitant steps forward and waved his wand in a complicated pattern. A few moments later he lowered his arm and shook his head.

"Can you lead us there?"

"Sure," said Harry. "Let's go through the gates."

About five yards from the great gates, Remus and Bill stopped in their tracks. "Sorry, cub. I don't think I'm supposed to be here," Remus said apologetically. Bill nodded and asked, "Do you still see a castle?"

"Yes, right in front of us, about a mile ahead."

"This smells like an old blood ward. I think that anyone not of the blood can't go forward from here, can't see or remember the place. Remus and I won't be able to go any further."

"This makes me 'of blood?'" Harry asked.

"Must be."

"I'm going to check this place out."

"Are you sure you want to go alone?"

"According to you, that's the only way possible. Listen—if this place belongs to my family, I need to check it out. You two should go back to the cottage. Remus, try and look in my father's desk for anything important. Bill, if you can, please bring Hermione and Luna over to look through the library. I won't be too long."

The Middle Ages had seen a shift in magical status within the common society. In the beginning of human civilisation magical people were part of the early state, and the supernatural was regarded as a privilege of the rulers. Kings and emperors used magical vessels as a means to enhance their power, security, and public image. Alexandros III Philippou Makedonon used his court's warlocks and his mistress, the sorceress Pancaspe, to survive the Arabic desert and become known as Alexander the Great. Roman emperors used their magical community to crush any opponents around the known world. The small kingdom of the Hebrew managed to resist empire after empire, during the early ages, due to their relatively large magical community, at the cost of huge losses to the Hebrew common community. This ended with Christianity. The Roman Empire did everything possible to persecute early Christians, but for some unknown reason Christianity attracted the non-institutionalised magical population, and the longer the Christians' persecutions persisted, the stronger the magical Christianity became. Hence came the first wizarding wars, and western civilisation sank into the Dark Ages. During the first half of the Middle-Ages, the magical community lived in symbiosis with the feudal state. Each feudal lord had his court's wizard; the stronger the wizard was, the stronger the feudal lord was as well. These times marked the birth of the term 'wizard', the feudal specialist, or 'wiz' for unnatural tasks. The highlight of this era saw King Arthur unify and rule England by the power of his enchanted sword and with the backup of his curt wizard Merlin Ambrosius, then fell due to the quarrels promoted by his half-sister, the sorceress Morgana Le Fay. Soon after, Hogwarts was founded.

The following years saw a change of heart in the Vatican. Christianity had forsaken and denounced all that was un-natural. Wizards were persecuted all around the western world and were forced into hiding. The feudal nature of the community dictated enforcement of family values. Hence came the emphasis of blood purity, the historic rent between Slytherin and Gryffindor and the creation of blood wards.

Blood wards were strong, precise, and ruthless. If a person didn't have the matching blood in his veins or didn't have a magical core, he wasn't to see, enter, or even remember the warded place. For a while the old families depended on these kinds of wards. Then disasters started to happen. Riches were lost as families were left without blood heirs. A few children even died when their widowed mothers left them inside the wards for a short while and couldn't find their way back in. The worse of it was that the wards were permanent. Once installed, they were meant to exist forever, long after the family they were made to protect had ceased to exist—or even worse, long after the family the wards were made to protect had lost its secret.

The Potters' ancestral estate was put under blood wards in the early fourteenth century; luckily Harry was at the right place to discover it to make use of its riches and resources.

He was surprised to find the front main doors of the estate unlocked, not knowing that his own blood was the key. Inside was a chaos of elves, running to greet their lord and master appropriately. He was too dazed to notice any details. He saw huge formal halls, enormous libraries and armouries, treasure vaults, and countless bedrooms, all without even making an organised tour.

"Excuse me?" he said to the elves, who were shadowing him at a distance.

"What can we do for milord?" asked a shivering, middle-aged looking elf dressed in the blue-red uniform which was apparently the common dress code of the elves.

"What is your name?"

"I is Rouly, milord," the elf said, bowing to the floor and shivering even more.

"Please call me Harry. I'm not comfortable with this 'milord' thing."

"Certainly, milord Harry," was the reply.

Harry sighed in frustration. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"Milord, we've been here for a very long time without orders. We are afraid that you is not approve what we to do."

"So don't be worried. Whatever you've done, it was your best and I'll be happy with it. Now I need some help, and maybe you can help me. I want to invite a few friends here, but I don't know how to get them through the wards."

There was a long conversation between the elves. Finally, an elderly elf asked Harry to follow him. He was visibly terrified of Harry's reaction to the invitation. The elf led Harry along a long corridor and through a secret entry into a hidden small study.

"Why are you afraid of me? Were you treated badly before?"

"No, milord Harry, sir. I is just afraid because I can not bring key to you. I is taking you to key."

"This is no reason to be afraid. We'll see about this later. What key do you mean?"

"Lomy is see old master put castle journal in the top drawer of the desk. Only master can open it."

Harry sat at the table and opened the top drawer. He felt a soft tingling sensation as he touched the handle for the first time. He tried touching it again and felt nothing. In the drawer he found a largish, leather-bound notebook which listed information regarding the wads and the estate. He took a short time to locate and read the needed information and then he left the room, closing the hidden door behind him.

The crowd of elves continued to follow him at a distance. Arriving at the main hall, he turned back and addressed the elves again.

"Friends," he said so the sound of their murmuring voices. "I must be gone now, and I will be back tomorrow to talk to you more. In the mean time I'm going to permit entrance to the castle for few of my friends. They will come here with my permission, and will do you no harm. Please help them around and show them into hidden places, except for the private study we were in right now."

With that, he turned around and practically ran out of the place. Back at the cottage, or the gatehouse as he found himself calling it, he found his friends waiting for him. Bill was showing a very excited Hermione around the library; Luna was checking the ground floor potion lab, while Remus just sat silently in the nursery.

"You wouldn't believe the books here!"

Harry hugged her affectionately. "Hermione, dear, this is nothing but a tiny sample. Come out back, please."

Going out back, they all looked at the forest, confused. Harry waved his wand above each of their heads and looked in open amusement as one by one their expressions turned from confusion to amazement.

"This is the Potter estate. You are welcome there if you like. I will ask you not to tell anyone about it yet until I know more about what's there. If you want to go there, you should know that there are dozens of terrified house-elves there that I don't know what to do with, so please don't give them any more reasons to be afraid of me."

After a short conversation it was clear that no one planned to go to the main manor without Harry. As promised, Harry took his grandmother's portrait off the wall and to return to Grimmauld Place.

"Is there anything important I need to know before we leave here that can't wait for tomorrow?"

Remus didn't say anything but handed him an envelope. It was largish, made of thick parchment, and lavender in colour. On it was one single word in a delicate feminine handwriting: _**Harry**_.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Apparating back home, they found a welcoming committee waiting for them. Hermione's father hugged her and led her to the living room. Fleur gave Bill a kiss which made Molly's face go red and left Ron gaping. Harry received a small kiss on his cheek from Ginny, and Ron, after looking torn up for a brief moment, came to pat him on the back. Molly looked like she was torn over whether to fuss over Bill or Harry, which saved both of them; and Petunia stood silently in the corner trying to remain inconspicuous, yet interested to hear what Harry might have found.

"Bye, Harry. I'll see you early in the morning," said Luna before drifting to the fireplace and Flooing back home.

"See you, Harry. If you need me I'll be at home," said Bill. "Just call 'Bill's' and you'll reach me," he added, then turned around to confront his mother.

Seeing Petunia in the corner, Harry tilted his head to direct her into the library, walking silently behind her.

"I'll tell you more later, after I get a little rest and some time to get hold of myself, but this will be important to you and a bit of a shock, too, I'm afraid. Do you know about magical portraits?"

Petunia shook her head.

"I've found one you will find _very_ interesting. You should probably show her to Dudley too, but first, you two have to have a long conversation."

"Her?"

"Your mother," he softly said, taking the covers off the portrait and deposing it on the couch. Turning to leave the room, he could hear Petunia's soft cry.

His mother's letter was burning a hole in his pocket, but the last few days had been such an emotional rollercoaster for him that he couldn't see himself opening the letter all by himself. For a moment he stood on the stair's gallery reviewing his options. Ron was certainly not an option; he might not have the "emotional range of a teaspoon" but he undoubtedly wasn't the one to give emotional support. Harry's relationship with Ginny was complex and vague enough as it was, without adding more complications. As good and loyal friends as Harry was sure they were, he didn't know Luna or Neville well enough to be comfortable sharing something so personal with either of them, and he was afraid that he would make them uncomfortable too. As always, it boiled down to his one friend who was always true and dependable. Harry sighed and went looking for Hermione.

For a long while he stood in the entrance to living room, observing the comfortable way in which the Granger family interacted. For a moment he felt a small pang of jealousy, though he knew that his friend had had a much harder time growing up than that scene of family life indicated. Harry had been a Hogwarts student for long enough to know that no Muggle-born student ever had an easy life growing up. He watched Hermione raise her head and notice him at the door, and his heart warmed at the sight of the smile that lit her face upon seeing him.

"Sorry to intrude," he said softly.

"You're not intruding at all," answered Emma, smiling at him warmly. "We were playing 'Scrabble'. Would you like to join?"

"Sorry, maybe later. There's something important I should do first." He looked Hermione in the eyes and quietly added, "I'd really appreciate the company."

It took her a few moments to shake herself up. "Certainly," she said; she made her excuses to her parents and followed him out of the room and into the master bedroom's study. He closed the door behind him, sealing and silencing it carefully, and sighed as he sank into the chesterfield couch, taking the letter out of his pocket.

"I'm so afraid to open this," he said, looking at his name on the envelope.

Hermione sat beside him, putting her small, soft hand on his arm. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

"I do, but I can't. I feel like it would be disrespectful to them. Does that make sense to you?"

She hugged him encouragingly, while he opened the letter, took a deep breath, and slowly read. Soon there were tears in his eyes and his body shook with sobs. She held him to her body, comforting him, until he regained his control. He sat there for almost an hour, enjoying the comfort of intimacy.

"Can I read it?" she finally asked.

Without words, he handed her the letter.

_Dear son,_

_This is one of the hardest things a parent can do, to plan on being the voice from the grave knowing that this is not only a long shot but a sad and probable reality. This letter is actually so hard for me to write that you are reading my fifth try at writing it. _

_You were born of the love James and I share but, sadly, to a very dark world. Sometimes I think that bringing a child into this world was the most selfish act I have ever made. The future stretches in front of us, dark and hopeless. We are fighting a desperate war and, sadly, losing miserably. Sometimes I feel that we brought you into life so you, together with our love for you and for each other, will create a ray of light in this clouded world. And what a ray of light you are!_

_From the moment you were conceived you filled me with such warmth and courage that I felt that your existence alone enables me to fight unimaginable odds and win. It seems like all of our close friends feel the same. We are a sad bunch of witches and wizards. All but a few are outcasts from society, yet we keep giving our lives for the survival of that same society. You came and you brought love to the hearts of many good people—your father and I, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Edgar, Alice and Frank. We all love you with all our hearts—never doubt that! _

_The knowledge of Alice and me being pregnant made us all resume our struggle with passion. Yet we have no leadership to focus our efforts, and the magical world is so corrupt and stuck in its ways that it fights every effort to raise the kind of leadership we need. The only leader accepted is Albus Dumbledore, who for the last three years has been leading us to our doom. _

_Recently a prophecy was made that declared either the child of Alice and Frank or you would be the saviour of wizarding England. We don't believe in prophecies. Divination is one of magic's least precise disciplines. But as long as Dumbledore believes in it, I'm very much afraid that this prophecy will fulfil itself. Dumbledore is entranced with the idea of a 'prophecy child' to take the responsibility of our current losses off his shoulders. We've thought about running away, but if there is any truth to this prophecy, it would hunt us down anywhere; so we decided to stay and help you get ready to hold your own against Dumbledore, Voldemort, and wizarding England. _

_If there is a chance of Voldemort or Dumbledore still being alive when you read this letter, know that you must get yourself ready for war. I'm sad to say it, but you will probably not be able to live your own life until you fight them for your independence. We have taken measures in secret to gather the tools, information, and leverage you will need to achieve this goal. Associate yourself with the people noted in this letter and their families. Together you will have the leverage to enforce your emancipation. If you haven't already, go to Gringotts as soon as possible and look in the Potters' vault for a Muggle notebook and the ball-point pen inside it. The notebook will explain about their importance. Note that a copy of this letter is waiting for you there too._

_Harry, dear, we do know that you will find a way to release yourself from the chains of destiny so that you may live a long, happy, and fulfilling life. Know in your heart that we love you more than life itself. We will watch you from above and many long years from now we will meet you to go on our next great adventure._

_Love,_

_Mum_

By that time Hermione's eyes were filled with tears and she was holding Harry for comfort, not knowing if she sought her own comfort or his.

"It's even worse than I was afraid of," Harry finally said.

"Not a fan of Dumbledore," Hermione remarked.

"Definitely not, though I can't imagine why not. In a small, sad part of me I'm glad I received this letter after Dumbledore's death. I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

"How do you feel?" she asked him cautiously, obviously worried for him.

"Frankly, I don't know. The last few days have been hard and hectic and I've had to solve crisis after crisis without the time to come to terms with what's happening to me and the things I must do. Have you come to terms with the fact that you've killed a man? That you must do it again to save your life and the lives of every person that you care about? That you will probably not be able to save them all?"

"He comes to me in my sleep," Hermione said. "Mr. Llewellyn. He always tells me that I'm supposed to be one of the 'good guys' so I wasn't allowed to kill..."

"No one is 'allowed' to kill. Never! But we need to do it for the sake of the world, God save our souls."

"Did the letter help in that regard?"

"In a way. It helps rationalise the things I must do."

"Can you tell me they _are_ the right things to do?"

"I can tell you they're necessary..."

They sat together in silence for a little longer.

"Hermione," Harry asked carefully. "What happened last night?"

Hermione sighed, then took a deep breath. "Must you know?"

"No, but it will make my coping that much easier."

Hermione took a deep breath. "We took the Underground downtown. It was obvious that Ron was quite anxious about the ride. Sadly, that made him chatter the whole time. He was rude to the people around us and was obnoxiously loud. I tried to explain, tried to make him speak less loudly, but did he listen? Finally I told him to just shut up and let me do the talking. By that time I was genuinely afraid that he'd cause a fight. I was still hoping that he would be able to relax once we got to the cinema, and we would be able to enjoy our time together. I had to prevent him from paying at the cashier's. I told him clearly, a few times in advance, that he can't use wizarding money in the common world. It was like speaking to a lamppost. Then the movie started and he kept talking. I tried to explain to him that it's rude to speak during the movie; I tried to encourage him to watch the film and enjoy himself, but he persisted in having a conversation with me, right then and there. People all around us were trying to silence us, then finally we were asked by the usher to leave the place. I was so humiliated!

"Still I decided to try, thinking that perhaps he was just out of his element. I offered to go bowling or ice skating instead—you know, something fun—but he refused every offer. We finally went to a nice coffee house and I was hoping that our evening would get better.

"Ron kept being obnoxious. He was ordering the hostess and the waiter around like they were house-elves, and you know I don't approve of that kind of behaviour toward house-elves. And he complained all the time: the food and drinks didn't get to our table fast enough; it was always too warm, or too cold; there wasn't enough light. He was checking the order like they were trying to rob him blind. And the things he said:

"_'…then we'll get married and I'll fix us a place for you and our kids to live'._

"_'It's not the time to speak about marriage. I'm not planning to marry right out of Hogwarts. You know that I plan to go on studying, have a career. And this is only our first date.'_

"But no—he had my whole life planned for me:

"_'What do you need to study for? It's not a woman's place to work, and anyway you'll be much too busy taking care of all our kids'._

"_'Do I seem to you like someone who'd want just stay home and take care of the kids?'_

"_'Why not?'_

"_'And Ginny? Did you plan her life for her too? You know she wants to be a Healer.'_

"_'Yeah, right. She'll play at being a Healer for a year or two and then settle down with her husband and kids.'_

"_'And Tonks? She didn't marry out of school and she has a job.'_

"_'Yes, but she's a half-blood...'_

"Sometimes Ron is as racist and narrow-minded as all the other purebloods. He just doesn't plan on running around killing Muggles like the Death Eaters.

"And he had the nerve to tell me about Lavender. Did you know that she's a whore? That's because she let him snog her. And all Muggle girls are whores too:

"_'Look at what they're wearing, how they show their bodies. Whores, the lot of them!'_

"_'Do you think common clothes are bad? I find the eighteenth-century clothing that wizards still insist on wearing to be hilarious.'_

"_'And living without magic? I wouldn't let my pet live like Muggles do.'_

_"'Do I need to remind you that __**my parents are Muggles?**_

"_'Sure, but your parents are decent, and they have you to help them with magic.'_

"And then he went on and on about Quidditch: about the Cannons, about the house team, about the Cup. He was getting louder and louder and people started to look at us. I tried to shush him, and people around us asked him to try and speak more quietly, and it made him angry, God knows why. I was that close to cursing him right where he stood, and the hell with the Secrecy Act!"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

"I truly believed that we had something, Ron and I, that given time and some maturity we would be able to build on our friendship. Now I'm not even sure we were ever really friends. I think maybe the only real connection between Ron and me was...you."

"I can assure you that Ron genuinely cares for you," Harry said quickly. Tell me another thing: will you be able to work with him after last night?"

"Yes, of course," she sighed heavily. "Just give me a couple of days to come to terms with that."

"Speaking of which, we're well behind our initial time table, and this place is still not under Fidelius. I know it's mostly my fault, but we need to try and get on schedule."

"Right. We can't move the gym issue until you go to Gringotts. My parents might be comfortably settled, but I wouldn't dare ask them to pay for a dozen gym subscriptions if I'm not sure we can pay them back."

"Oh right, you weren't at the castle this morning," Harry said with a faraway look in his eyes. "Believe me when I say that money will not be an issue."

Hermione looked at her friend for a moment, transfixed. Then she shook herself and went on. "I'll ask my father if he can look into this tomorrow morning. He feels really useless and will be happy with something practical to help us with."

"Right, so let's go talk with Su."

"The Li family, Su please," voiced Hermione clearly into the green blaze. "You know," she added, waiting for Su to answer, "I much prefer telephones."

"Sometimes I can't believe the things wizards will do in order to avoid finding newer and better solutions."

Hermione nodded as Su's head appeared in the fire. "Hi Hermione, Long night?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"Well, I know some. I had a long talk with Luna while at Hogwarts, and she heard some of it from Ginny this morning."

"You wouldn't believe the speed at which rumours spread, even outside of Hogwarts," Harry smiled.

"I just wanted to tell you that if you ever need a friend to listen, or suggest interesting curses for the git, you can call on me."

"Thanks," she said with a sad smile.

"I was actually on my way to Floo you guys. Luna and I went to the school early this morning to talk to Professor Flitwick. He was really supportive and offered to come here to help us with the Fidelius tomorrow afternoon. When we were there, Professor McGonagall came to us and asked to join him, if you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. I'll send Hedwig to her shortly."

"He told us that he'll talk with us about the other subjects while he's here."

"Good work, Su. Would you like to Floo in for dinner this evening?"

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"Abigail! What an honour!" said Michaela Edgecombe, the head of the Floo Network Authority, as the new Head Auror stepped into her office. "Congratulations on the nomination. We really do need more witches in the Ministry these troublesome days. What can the Floo Authority do for the Auror office? Anything to help with the war effort, you know."

Abigail Clifford sighed dramatically and closed the office door behind her. "I need you to help me with a sensitive and a somewhat questionable background check on a suspect. Let me just seal the office door first."

She sealed and silenced the door, then went around Michaela's table and behind her back. In a blink of an eye, Michaela Edgecombe was Stunned, tied, and silenced. "Sorry, but I really must do this," Abigail whispered, rolling her long-time friend's sleeves up to reveal a Dark Mark on her left arm. "I'm so sorry for this," she softly said while she revived her friend, who now wore a frightened look on her face and struggled against her ties. She administered three drops of clear liquid into Michaela's mouth and started the long interrogation. At the end of the interrogation, after receiving a few interesting and saddening names to investigate further, Abigail re-Stunned her former friend, Obliviated her thoroughly, and gave her a set of predetermined alternative memories, before untying and reviving her.

"Thanks for your help, Michaela."

"No worries; that's what's old friends are for. Congratulations on your promotion once more."

Abigail smiled and went out of the Floo Network Authority offices and back to her own. While this was happening, six other people were doing basically the same thing all around the Ministry building. Two of the seven employees who were interrogated were found to be Death Eaters or active Voldemort supporters. These two gave the interrogators five forenames for follow-up investigations which would be held later that day. Arrests would be made simultaneously few moments before the end of the working day.

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"Mum?"

Petunia was speechless and quit frightened, to be frank. She felt like her past was coming back to hunt her for all her mistakes—for letting her jealousy make her betray her sister's and parents' memories, and for avenging her shortcomings and bad conscience on a small, defenceless infant who had been left in her care. In her heart Petunia always knew that her parents had never measured their love for their daughters. Now she truly did not deserve it.

The portrait was visibly crying. Heather Evans had spent sixteen long and lonely years dreaming about being reunited with her last surviving daughter, doubtful that the chance would ever come for fear that Petunia, too, had not survived the war, or that she would reject Heather if the opportunity to be reunited ever did come.

"Petunia!" cried Heather. "I missed you so much."

"A picture? How are you in a picture? Is it really you?"

"It was Lily's doing, Petunia dear. I was dying and no one could help me, so Lily offered this. She said that I'd be around, in a fashion, for many years and would get to know Harry and your son, and I accepted. It was so strange to wake up in this portrait. It's like I'm sitting in a room with a large front window and I can see and hear and talk, but can't get out. There's a door at the back, and Lily told me that's the way I can visit other portraits if I like; but at Lily's there was only the one. I asked her to invite you so I could see you and your son. She said you wouldn't even agree to speak with her. She said that she tried to meet with you on the street without letting you know in advance so you couldn't turn her down, and you just went on, ignoring her. Well—she didn't tell me that, but she told James upstairs and I heard. She was crying. She cried a lot back then, with the war, and so many of their friends dying. Then that man came, and I was so alone. Is your son here? Can I see him too?"

"He's upstairs in his room. I'll call him later." It was obvious that Petunia was extremely uncomfortable with this, but Heather was too excited to notice.

"Did they really bring Harry to you that day?"

Petunia nodded, concerned about the next question.

"He was such a lovely child, and he grew so beautifully. Thank you so much for taking care of him. He was so small and alone in the world."

At that moment Petunia lost all pretence of composure and collapsed to her knees, crying, before her mother's portrait.

"Petunia dear, what is it? What did I say?"

"I'm such a horrible person..."

"What? Why would you say so?"

"I'm petty, and jealous, and I let myself take out all my anger on a small, innocent child. Lily never did anything wrong to me, but I was jealous so I resented her, and I resented her boy for reminding me of her."

Heather was lost for words.

"He came to me, and he had your eyes—Lily's eyes. He reminded me of everything I ever wanted to forget, so I punished him. The things we did to the poor boy... Sure, it was Vernon who mistreated Harry the most, and we've never actually hit him, but I knew and I saw and I did it, too. I should go to prison for the things I've done to the poor child. Then he saves our lives. And he welcomes us to _his_ home, and he treats us so nicely. I want him to shout at me, to throw me out of this place, but he won't. He's so much like Lily..."

It was three hours later when a red-eyed Petunia went out of the library, sobbing slightly, to look for her son.

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"What are you planning for tonight?"

Ginny jumped in surprise to see Harry standing in front of her smiling down on her.

"Never—do—that! You scared the hell out of me," she panted.

"Yes? What happened to 'Constant vigilance'?"

"You're hilarious, you know? I have no plans but to read. What do you have in mind?"

"I had a long and difficult day, and I need to do something fun to relax. I thought about trying a movie myself. Would you like to come with me?"

"A movie? Haven't you learned already that movies are bad for relationships?"

Harry sat down beside her and thought for a moment. "I know that our relationship is vague, to say the least. I know that we need to talk and decide about our future together, but tonight I just need your companionship and a little fun. Can you do that?"

"Sure, Harry, I didn't mean to put pressure on you, just a little healthy teasing. What will we see? I know nothing about movies."

Harry smiled at her softly. "It depends on your preferences. Would you like action, romance, or just some fun?"

"Since romance went out the window, and I'm a girl, I vote for fun."

"Great, we can go and see the same film that Ron and Hermione were supposed to see yesterday."

"We can ask her to come with us. She needs some fun too."

"Wouldn't you mind?"

"Not tonight, Harry. Sometime soon we'll have our talk, and maybe then I will. For now, let's just go and have fun."

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**Ministry Cleanup**

**Six highly placed Ministry officials were arrested last evening in a series of coordinated operations made by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The officials arrested were accused of being marked Death Eaters or otherwise involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The arrests were held simultaneously a few moments before the end of working hours. According to information supplied by the DMLE, the officials arrested are the following:**

**Ludovic Bagman—Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports**

**Habakuk Murdoch—Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation**

**Michaela Edgecombe—Head of the Floo Network Authority**

**Talbot Ross—Head of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad**

**Cynthia Van Dale – of the Wizengamot Administration Services**

**An unnamed employee of the Department of Mysteries**

**During a press conference held by the Minister of Magic and the Head of the DMLE the press was assured by Mr. Gawain Robards, new Head of the DMLE, that the evidence against all involved is conclusive. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour put further emphasis on the effort made by the Ministry to cleans its workforce of any active supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "We are in open war against the Dark Lord's forces. The Ministry has no chance of winning this war or ensuring the magical community's well-being while it is infested with Death Eaters and their supporters." The Minister further stated that the recent arrests were just the head of the beast, and that the current operation will go on until all Death Eaters and You-Know-Who's supporters working for the Ministry are arrested and put to trial. **

**More Death Eater Attacks**

**Two attacks by Death Eaters were made late last night against members of the British magical community. According to sources in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the attack resulted in one casualty and large property damage. The source further informed the **_**Prophet**_** that many of the casualties of former attacks were a direct result of the cut-off of the Floo connection to the place under attack. With the arrest of the Death Eaters' connection at the Floo Network Authority, wizards under attack have the means to flee the premises, with their families, before their home wards are breached. **

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Breakfast at the House of Black was a much more cheerful affair than in the preceding days. Ginny, Hermione, and Harry were still excited about their evening.

"That's what you need to tell Voldemort next time you meet—'You're not a **real** Dark Lord. You're a child's plaything'—and do that thing with your fingers..."

"And when Woody arranged all the toys to frighten Sid? I was pissing my pants off..."

"What are you talking about?"

"The film you and Hermione went to the night before," said Ginny. "You might have enjoyed yourself if you'd only taken the time to actually watch it."

Ron concentrated on his plate, reddening in embarrassment.

"When did you children come home?" Molly interjected quickly.

"Around one in the morning," Harry answered hesitantly. "By then I wasn't watching the time."

Molly looked at him as if she wasn't going to trust him with her children any more.

"So where did you go after the film?"

"Ice skating, Dad."

"Which was hilarious too. We certainly know nothing about ice skating."

Hermione huffed in disagreement.

"Well, Hermione here can do all sorts of turns and spins, but Harry and I couldn't even stand straight, not to mention actually skate."

"I fell so many times I don't think I will be able to sit straight for a week."

"And then Hermione tried to hold Harry straight to teach him how to skate, and they fell together."

Harry and Ginny broke down laughing, to Hermione's great embarrassment and her parents' amused smiles.

"I'm so happy we went out last night. I really needed that."

"You're welcome. Hermione and I had a great time too."

"What are the plans for today?"

"I must go to Gringotts this morning. I haven't been there in too long and I need to make arrangements for large expenses both in Galleons and in pounds. Professor Flitwick is coming here at four this afternoon to help us with the Fidelius. It would probably be best if you were here too, Hermione. In between I need to take care of the gym subscriptions and try and look around the castle a little. You can go there earlier with Luna or Bill, if you like."

"What castle?"

"My family's castle. I was so distracted last night that I forgot to tell you about it. When we went to check my parents' cottage at Godric's Hollow yesterday morning, we accidentally found my family's castle hidden under blood wards. I only had time for a short glance around, but I should give it a thorough look sometime soon."

Ron looked excited. "I can go there with you, Hermi."

The pointed look he received in response took his excitement away.

"You can't go there. You're not keyed to the wards."

"So key me in!"

"Ron, this isn't some adventure for you to enjoy. I keyed Hermione and Luna to the wards since they need access to the library there. I'll probably key Su a bit later for the same reason. Bill is keyed to help me look for all kinds of traps. Other than that, I don't want anyone in there until I get to explore the place for myself first."

"I think I'll wait and go there with you for the first time, too" said Hermione, not relieving Ron's disappointment a bit.

"Dan can help you with the gym subscriptions, if you like," offered Emma.

"I'd love to. I really need something to do other than call the insurance company six times a day. How many subscriptions do you need?"

"About fourteen?"

"Fourteen? You'd better _buy_ the gym, then. No, I'm serious. Gym subscriptions are quite expensive. If you need to train such a large group, you can buy the equipment and build your own gym right here. I'm sure we can find a place."

"Doesn't it run on electricity?"

"Only the more expensive equipment and you can manage without that."

"So can you help me? Just tell me how much you need and I'll have the money ready for you tomorrow morning."

"I'll go window shopping this morning and talk with you this afternoon."

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Granger."

"You're welcome—and it's Dan."

"Harry, have you read the morning papers?" Hermione asked, to change the subject. "I think the Minister is on the right track, and maybe you should give him some kind of public backup," she added, seeing his nod.

"What did you have in mind?"

"At the least, I think you should publish another press release, commending his new policy. If he keeps following that road, you should probably let him 'persuade' you into having a joint press conference."

"What do you think?" he asked the rest of those at the table.

"Hermione's probably right. Minister Scrimgeour is a politician, and he needs to see political advantage in the policy he dictates. As cynical as it sounds, right now _you_ are a remarkable political advantage."

Ron snorted at his sister's words but nodded in agreement.

"Well, let's put a press release into today's schedule too, then."

"I'll try and draft one for you to read over in the afternoon," offered Emma.

"Fine," Harry said finally. "Let's get started. For everyone going out of the house, please ask someone to accompany you—and have show **'Constant Vigilance!'**" he finished. To the sound of laughter all around, they all parted to go their own ways.

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"Thanks for coming with me on such short notice," Harry told Susan who met with him at the Leaky Cauldron. "I didn't want to walk the streets alone and the others had a lot of work to do for themselves."

"Sure thing, Harry. I was actually glad to receive your firecall. It gets very lonely at my house these days."

"You know that you're invited to stay with us, or at least stay during the days?"

"Thanks, Harry," she said softly.

"I hope the Goblins will have time to meet with us. I want to do a little more than just withdraw money."

"Actually, now that I'm of age and the head of my family, I have some arrangements to make too."

"Well, here we are," he said when they stood before the large white doors of the wizarding bank. Harry bowed her through the door and they walked into the dim interior and headed toward one of the shorter queues.

"We would like to know who is managing the accounts of the Potter and Bones families, if you please," Susan said to the teller when they reached the head of the line.

"The Potter," said the elderly Goblin from the height of his desk, looking at Harry, "and Bones," he added, looking at Susan. "Would you please sit in our waiting room for a short while?"

"Account manager?" mouthed Harry at Susan, following the Goblin.

"Certainly, Mr. Potter," answered the Goblin without turning his head. "Make yourselves comfortable. We will be with you shortly." He showed them into a posh conference room, and silently closed the doors behind them.

"Every large account at the bank has a dedicated account manager," Susan explained, noting the confused look on Harry's face. "Surely you've received reports from your account manager before? I've been receiving quarterly reports since I was eleven years old, even though Aunt Amelia was my trustee until I came of age."

"I haven't received any mail at all from Gringotts, ever."

"That can't be possible," said a clear voice coming from the door. "Please let me introduce myself," said the ancient Goblin standing by the door. "My name is Ironblaze, and I am the head of the trust department of Gringotts international. I am here to introduce you to the full extent of your accounts here in our bank and to help guide you in taking command of these accounts. But first—did you say that you have never received our reports till this day, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir."

"This is quite perturbing news to me, since Gringotts has been sending you the reports quarterly ever since you were eleven years old. I've followed your case personally, since there was a problem with the execution of some parts of your parents' will."

"Mr. Ironblaze," said Harry carefully, "do you have a copy of my parents' will?"

"Certainly," said the Goblin, handing Harry a yellowing parchment. "But please just call me Ironblaze. In the Goblin nation a Goblin's honour is defined by his deeds, not one's titles. Regarding your parents' will, part of the will was given to your Ministry to execute and, sadly, was not followed according to your parents' wishes. If I remember correctly, your parents designated certain people to be your guardians in case of their demise. In their will they clearly ordered that you not be handed into the custody of your remaining family—your mother's sister. Once we discovered that your parent's orders were not followed in that regard, we took it upon ourselves to file a plea with the Wizengamot. Sadly, however, the plea was sealed by the Chief Warlock of the day."

"Sir—er, Ironblaze..."

The old Goblin smiled, baring a wide set of sharp and pointed teeth.

"Is there more information that we need to know before visiting our vaults?"

"Quite a bit, actually, but I prefer that we have another meeting and invite one more person to attend."

"Can I guess that you're referring to Mr. Longbottom?"

" You are correct." Ironblaze handed Harry and Susan each a thick file. "Here are summaries of your accounts. Mr. Longbottom already has his summary at hand. I will summon you to a meeting with me and one of our investment specialists to further explain actions taken in your accounts and their significance."

"Thank you, Ironblaze," smiled Susan. "We'll see you again next week, then."

"Ironblaze?" Harry said tentatively. "Is there a simple way for us to make a large withdrawal of both wizarding and Muggle money without running around with large sacks of gold?"

"Any owner of a large account can magically sign his purchase to his account in any magical shop, using a family signet like the ones you will find in your respective vaults. I will see that a credit card and a chequebook are waiting for you at the reception desk, if you like. You will be able to make Muggle cash withdrawals at any ATM machine."

"That will be lovely, Ironblaze. Can I order a set for myself too?" Susan asked.

"Certainly, Ms. Bones."

"Didn't you just tell us that Goblin etiquette requires the use of one's given name?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes, I did, Susan." Ironblaze bowed slightly and left them in the main hall.

On their way into the catacombs in which the personal vaults were built they were led by a much younger Goblin who Harry remembered, from his few previous rides to his vault, as Griphook. The ride itself was much longer than he remembered, since the family vaults they were now visiting were located much deeper in the high-security ward of the bank's donjons.

The visit to her family vault was not a new experience for Susan. She took her family signet with a sad and thoughtful expression on her face, showed Harry a few interesting heirlooms that were stored there, and left with him to visit his own vaults. The Black family vault was quite a sinister affair. It was filled with items that looked questionable at best and with dark-coloured, old-fashioned furniture. Harry went there mostly just to look around and also to collect the Black family signet. He wanted to be able to show proof of his claim upon the House of Black and a means to charge expenses directly to the Black vault.

The ride to the Potter family vault was even longer. The Potter vault, as Griphook was only too happy to explain, was one of the original and most secure vaults in the bank. After his short visit to his family's castle, Harry wasn't surprised when he saw the riches inside his vault, yet he was still impressed. Susan, on the other hand, stood at the vault entrance gobsmacked. Harry took a little time to look around and remembered to collect his signet, as well as the Muggle pen and notebook mentioned in his mother's letter, then they all went back up to the entry hall.

"Have a good day, Ms. Bones, Mr. Potter. You can come any time and look for me if you'd like to see to one of your vaults."

"A very respectable Goblin told us this morning that a person is measured by his deeds, not his titles, Griphook," Harry smiled.

"What my friend here is trying to say is that we're Susan and Harry, not Ms. Bones or Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Susan. You're right, of course, but we learned to our chagrin that most men are more interested in titles than character. Then, too, most men know little about Goblin customs and Goblins in general."

"This is quite true. Lately I've come to understand that we know practically nothing about the other magical races, and what we do learn seams a little biased." Harry decided to take a little gamble. "If I may, do you know of a way for me and my friends to learn more about Goblins—your history and your way of life?"

Griphook took a long, thoughtful look at Susan and Harry, and then a wide smile, full of teeth, spread across his face. "I'm sure that for such good customers as yourselves, I would be able to come up with something."

They bade Griphook goodbye, picked up their bank cards and chequebooks, and went back out into the sunny street outside. For a long moment they stood on the stairs of the wizarding bank and looked down at the hectic magical alley before them.

Susan was looking doubtfully at the little paper booklet, small plastic card, and the piece of paper she had received from the reception desk. "Harry," she asked, "what's an APM machine?"

Harry smiled. Even now, six years after he'd entered the magical world, he was amazed by the sheer lack of understanding wizards had about the common world. "ATM. It's a machine the Muggles use in order to make cash withdrawals without actually visiting the bank. The plastic card Is a bit like your family signet, and the chequebook—well, I can show you how to use it once we go out into Muggle London. Actually, it would probably be better to let Hermione's parents show us both, since I've never used any of these before either."

"What are you planning to do now?"

Harry stood there thoughtfully for a moment, playing with the new signet on his right hand finger. Then a smile crept onto his face. "What would you think about a little shopping?" he asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Susan asked. "Am I a girl?" and she started dragging him down the alley from shop to shop.

First there were clothes. Not a lot of them, since the Alley offered only a selection of magical clothes and Harry felt more comfortable wearing regular clothes when not in the magical world. A few of the shops offered a selection of their own peculiar concept of Muggle garments, which were quite hilarious. Susan had a hard time understanding what Harry found to be so funny, so he promised her to take her shopping in Muggle London someday soon, probably together with Hermione since he didn't know where to go by himself.

Next on Harry's list was a Pensieve. Asking around, they located a small shop a little way into Knockturn Alley that held a variety of models. After a short inquiry he bought three different models. Two of them were regular Pensieves with two different capacities. One was for the use of Luna and Hermione and the other for his own personal use. The third was a special "presentation" model which offered a practical way to share memories with groups of people

Coming back out into Diagon Alley, they noticed a slightly concealed shop selling battle and duelling equipment. Harry and Susan looked at each other for a short moment before walking purposefully into the shop.

"Aren't you a bit on the young side to be my clients?" asked an amused shopkeeper.

"It depends," answered Susan, looking straight at the man's eyes. "How many times must your customers fight Voldemort personally in order to qualify as your clients?"

The man recoiled from her look, while Harry chuckled softly in the corner. "You've improved quite remarkably, Susan," he told her appreciatively.

"I've been training for the last year," Susan answered, suddenly feeling rather proud of herself.

"You're Amelia's niece," said the shopkeeper in sudden recognition. "I knew your aunt, miss. She was a very remarkable witch. I'll be honoured to help you in any way I can."

Susan kept looking into the man's eyes. "A few friends of mine and I are planning to fight Voldemort's men. We'll need the equipment to do so. We were thinking of body armour, Invisibility Cloaks, special wand holsters, and we'll welcome any other advice."

"The equipment you're talking about is very expensive. Dragon-hide full body armour costs about five thousand Galleons. That's about the yearly salary of a newly recruited Auror. An Invisibility Cloak is about half that price. If you like, I can suggest alternative, cost-effective products."

"Thank you sir." Harry decided to take his part in the negotiations. "We're more interested in the question of whether you'll agree to sign a magical binding secrecy contract regarding our business deal here. You see, the equipment we use is part of the operational surprise we might use, and we don't want this information to fall into the enemy's hands, do we?"

"Sure thing, sir," the shop owner answered, still looking Susan in the eyes. "It's quite a common practice in our business."

"Thank you, then," said Su. "I'll draft a contract and will be back with you in the next few days. I assure you that our business will be very profitable for your shop. Goodbye, sir," she said, and she turned and followed Harry out of the shop.

"You were brilliant; he didn't even notice me. Now we can arrange the deal in a way that he'll only know the true identity of his buyer after signing the contract."

"It did go easier than I'd imagined," smiled Susan.

"Very well, now," said Harry, taking her hand. "We've taken enough chances here today, walking around the Alley. Let's just go somewhere safe," he said, and Apparated them away.

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AN – This chapter was very hard for me to write. It's very emotionally loaded and there's always a risk of its coming out tacky instead of "heart warming "…

Please tell me how I did, so I might run some improving and editing if needed.

I promise there will be much more action in each of the following chapters, peaking around chapter ten…

Niv


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was around noon as Susan and Harry appeared at the entry hall of No. Twelve Grimmauld Place, loaded with their purchases. The house lay silent around them, as all of its inhabitants were outside about their daily activities. Harry was quite surprised to find the house so quiet and peaceful. Up till that time he had only seen the house full of people, hassle, and activity. Harry even began to notice that the house had a bit of charm, being that peaceful. "Come," he invited Susan, "let me show you around. We might even have time for a cup of tea before the rest of the day starts," he smiled.

"Lead the way," she smiled back.

"This is the living room," he said, acting as the proud host. "You should have seen it last year. Actually you shouldn't have—it was covered in dirt, infested with insects and creatures, and filled with dangerous Dark artefacts. The Order was trying to get us out of their way, so they charged us with cleaning the place by ourselves, and without the use of magic, on top of everything. We were fighting this house for a month before we yielded. Fortunately, there were no casualties at the time," he smiled. "It stayed in the same horrible state up till few days ago, when Dobby and his house-elf friends cleaned it up in one morning, to this wonderful state."

Susan chuckled softly. "Why weren't you allowed to use magic?" she asked. "It's a magical home."

"We were all underage."

"So?" she asked. "You weren't Muggleborn, living in a Muggle house."

"What do you mean?" he asked, having a very nasty suspicion.

"Well, magical homes are not meant to be lived in without the use of magic. How do you do the dishes, or laundry, or heat water for tea? All magical children use magic when at home for everyday life. Anyway, the Ministry has no way of knowing who is performing magic, only that magic is being used in a certain place; they can't distinguish between magic performed by a kid and magic performed by a parent, and if a place has basic obscuring wards around it, they can't identify magic being performed at all."

"I don't know that the Weasley kids were allowed to use magic out of school," he said, not wanting to accept the meaning of her words.

"Your friends aren't your regular magical family, as you know well enough. They don't act like an ordinary magical family. This is probably part of the reason that they are outcasts, in some measure, in the pureblood community, though the purity and the history of their family can't be denied. I believe that if you ask, you'll discover that their older kids used magic at home when they were young, though probably without their parents' knowledge."

"And you've used magic at home all this time?'"

"Yes," Susan answered. "To study and for everyday life," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry accompanied Susan up the stairs to show her the guest rooms and to deposit most of his purchases in his room. They went back downstairs to the kitchen, looking for tea. "I can tell you two things right now," he said after a long silence. "The first is that I'm so mad at Dumbledore right now, for knowingly putting me at a disadvantage against almost all the students at school, that I'm almost happy he's dead. Secondly, Hermione is going to feel the same way about the whole Ministry. What you've told me is so discriminatory against Muggleborns that I can't find the words to describe my discontent with the situation."

"It's not all about discrimination, you know," she answered, not completely understanding his anger. "In a magical household there is always someone to fix things when a kid does something stupid. The underage magic ban act was introduced for a good reason. There were too many cases of Muggleborn children doing magic in front of strangers, without being careful, and way too many cases of students blowing up or burning down their homes, killing parents and siblings."

"Maybe so," he said, still angry, "but enforcing a rule that discriminates against a large part of the student population without their knowledge is not the way to go."

They went past the entry hall and into the kitchen as the fireplace blazed green.

"Here they come," Harry said, smiling, and waited near the fire to see who was arriving. For a long while no one appeared in the fire. Finally, a dark figure appeared in the flames but didn't come through. They heard murmuring coming from the figure in the fire, and then with a loud banging sound, a tall person dressed in black rolled out of the fireplace and into the room. Harry looked at the person, intrigued, until he saw a glimpse of white on the man's face. At once his expression turned blank, as he whispered, "_Reducto_," pointing his wand at the man. The man collapsed to the floor, lying in a growing pool of blood.

"_Reducto_!" He heard Susan curse another dark figure.

"Block the fireplace! _Reducto!_" he shouted as another person in black stumbled into the room and was immediately struck down by Harry's curse.

"_Cento!_" Susan pointed her wand at the fireplace, extinguishing the flames at once.

"Dobby!" Harry shouted, forgetting that there was no need to shout for a house-elf. "Can you block up the fireplace?" he asked the elf, looking at the small pile of limp bodies and Stunning each of the men a second time, to be on the safe side.

"Dobby, please block all the fireplaces in the house until I tell you to open them again," he ordered the elf, who shimmered out of the room. "We waited too long," he said to Susan, jumping back a step as a loud crash rattled the front door. "I don't know how to operate the house's wards!" he cried in frustration. "I need the house to lock down!" Luckily, just as he said that, the room illuminated and all sounds from the outside ceased.

"Thanks for that. I think the house is safe for a while. Now we need to warn the others not to come here. I'm going to Apparate to the other side of the square so I can use the phone. Dobby, can you find Hermione and warn her?" Once again Dobby shimmered out of sight as Harry Apparated to the other side of the square to find Susan standing beside him. Running for a hiding place, they watched about twenty men, dressed in black robes, trying to break down the house's wards.

"Let me just call my aunt. Then I need to find a way to keep them away from the house long enough for the Aurors to come." As he finished his call, two figures appeared behind them, diving for cover from the ray of magic that suddenly headed their way from Harry and Susan.

"Harry, stop, it's us!" cried Hermione, as Remus waved his hand to them to show his location.

"Didn't Dobby tell you _not_ to come here?"

"You expect me to let you fight them all alone? We left my parents downtown and came to the house as fast as possible. Then Dobby told us you were foolish enough to leave the warded house and come out here."

"I don't know how long the wards will hold, and I don't want them to breach," Harry said, unaffected by his friend's glare.

"We can't do too much; the four of us are no match for twenty-odd Death Eaters."

"I think I have an idea." He waited for his friend's attention and laid his plan for them. "Su, you go to the Aurors and bring them back here to the square in about ten minutes. Hermione, Remus, and I are going to take them for a walk around the block and bring them back here to be ambushed." He turned his head from the street to see his friends staring at him, open-mouthed. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he told the shocked Susan. "Go!" he ordered, and ran into the square in full view of the Death Eaters who were attacking the house.

"**Are you guys looking for me?**" He said, using a Sonorus charm on himself. "**You're looking in the wrong place!**" he added, sending a few Reducto curses into the crowd of Death Eaters, and ran back for cover, away from the barrage of spells heading his way. "Fall back!" he shouted to his friends, finding cover behind a telephone booth. For a minute or so they retreated down the street, from cover to cover, throwing curses into the crowd of Death Eaters with no time to aim at specific targets. "Use Reductos!" he shouted to Hermione, seeing her send a Stunner down the street. The next time she pointed her wand down the street, a cry of pain came from one of the Death Eaters, making Harry smile and run to the next cover.

Too soon they found themselves at the end of the street. Sadly, Harry was hiding behind a corner at one side of the block while Remus and Hermione covered his retreat from across the street. They managed to hold the Death Eaters for another short while, using their superior cover from around the corners of the block, but then had to renew their retreat, going their separate ways, when the sheer force of greater numbers of the Death Eaters' group continued to come after them.

Harry kept falling back down the new street, trying his best to slow the seven-odd men who were following him. He saw passers-by getting hit by curses and could do nothing about it but fire another curse toward his followers and go looking for a new hiding place. _This is going to be hell for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad and their Obliviators to clean up_, he thought. For a minute, the rolling battle was stopped as a man came out of one of the buildings to shoot a nearby Death Eater in the head. Two of the fallen man's friends forgot about their fight and went to avenge their colleague. Soon the Muggle's agonised screams were filled the street, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Still, the fact that a Death Eater was standing in the middle of the street to torture a Muggle presented Harry with a clear and stationary target, and his next Reducto made sure that one of the man's torturers would never curse anyone again. Then he had to resume his strategy of going back and seducing the Death Eaters into coming after him around the next corner. _Just one more corner_, he thought to himself; he ran a few houses down the street, looking for a good place from which to shoot at the first Death Eater to show his face around the corner. Then he kept running, using what little time he managed to gain. _I sure hope the Aurors are waiting_ was the thought that kept running through his mind.

Harry took a peek behind his back and into Grimmauld Place. The square looked deserted. He was exhausted, both magically and physically. He threw one last curse at the Death Eaters behind him and ran into the empty square and around the corner. He would have one last shot at them and then would have to Disapparate. In the distance he saw trails of curses flying in from one of the side streets, and then Hermione ran around the corner levitating a body, which had to be Remus's, in front of her. She turned to the side and collapsed behind a staircase. Harry gathered the last of his strength to Apparate behind her.

"What happened?" he asked, watching the tip of Hermione's wand in front of his eyes.

"He was hit with a curse. I don't know which," she answered, panting heavily. "I'm totally worn out," she said. "I tried to Apparate out and I couldn't, then the Disillusionment Charm I put on his body failed, and I had to levitate him and run for it."

"We'll try and hold it here for a little longer," Harry said, pushing her deeper behind the staircase as the first Death Eaters emerged from the streets back into Grimmauld Place. They spread out as more Death Eaters poured into the square looking for Harry and his friends. Harry readied his wand to get the first one of them who might think of looking under the stairs. He knew he would be able to do very little afterwards as their hiding place would be exposed. The time dragged and Harry was losing his patience and fighting the urge to take a peek into the square. The silence, disturbed by only a few cries from different directions, was almost unbearable. Suddenly, for a second, Grimmauld Place burst into fire as curses, explosions, and Apparation cracks were heard all around the town's square. Then the place went quiet.

"Harry?" he heard a remotely familiar voice calling from the street. "I'm not going to put my head in there, but you can come out now. It's safe."

"Who is it?" mouthed Hermione, and Harry just shrugged.

"Harry?" he heard Susan calling. "Come out—the Aurors are here."

Harry thought quickly and hit on a question to ask that would let him know if it was really Susan. "What does Hermione need to prepare for us?"

It took her few moments to think and then, "A contract," she said.

"What contract?" Hermione mouthed.

"Just wait here," he answered and peeked out to see Susan standing with Stanford Lucas and few more Aurors. "Thank Merlin!" he said. "Come quick, we have a wounded friend here."

It was five minutes before Harry arrived at St. Mungo's and fifteen more until he could return to Grimmauld Place, reassured that given a few days, Remus would be up and about. When he returned, he found Stanford Lucas and Kingsley Shackleboltstanding together with Susan and Hermione, directing the cleanup operation that was being performed by a legion of Aurors and Obliviators.

"It appears that I'm in your debt once again."

They all turned, smiling widely when they saw the new arrival. Harry noted Hermione's apparent exhaustion and Susan's mixture of horror and excitement, typical for a first fight. He stood with them looking around in appreciation. The front of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was unscarred, though the houses to its right and left showed clear signs of spell damage. _We'll have to do something about this_, he thought to himself. A small line of dark-clothed bodies lay in the square's centre alongside a much larger group of other bodies. _What have we done?_ he thought, fighting his remorse enough to keep going for at least a short while longer.

"I probably have three more bodies in the house," he added, after a short silence.

"You did the right thing, Harry," answered Kingsley. "From what I've heard, you could have run to safety. It was your choice to fight them long enough for us to come and help."

"Actually," added Lucas, "it's probably the Ministry which is in your debt. Up till now, you and your friends are the ones who have done the most to fight the Death Eaters."

"Maybe so, but at what price?" Harry asked, looking at the bodies in front of him. "How many?" he asked softly.

"We found three dead Death Eaters around the block and apprehended five more who were too wounded to flee. Three more were Stunned by us before the others disappeared."

Lucas seamed to better understand Harry's question. "We found eight Muggles dead and seven more wounded, one of them with severe Cruciatus exposure," he added softly.

"Take good care of him. He killed one of the Death Eaters, and helped me down another one down."

"We'll take good care of everyone. All the wounded will be back home in two days' time. That man will probably take a little longer to heal, but he has no permanent damage."

"Let's get inside," Hermione encouraged. "We need to take care of the Death Eaters in there, and Professor Flitwick is about to arrive." She made a visible effort to raise herself from the bench she was sitting on. "And to tell you the truth," she added, "I'm completely exhausted, both magically and physically. I truly need to lie down and rest for a little while."

"Oh, so sorry!" said Lucas, while Harry walked toward the house. "Drink this," Lucas said, offering Hermione a vial of pinkish potion. She swallowed it in one gulp as she watched Harry try the front door, and suddenly she felt amazingly empowered. The door didn't yield and Harry was showing his frustration and exhaustion. "I just don't know how to operate the wards!" He looked disgusted at the vial of potion offered to him by Lucas, but downed it anyway.

"What did you do to the wards?"

"I think I've ordered the house to lock down. I've tried to order it to re-open; I've tried to Apparate in—nothing works..."

"Do the wards have a key?" Luca asked carefully.

"Yes, but it's inside."

"Does the house have a house-elf?"

Harry tried to hide his embarrassment. "Dobby!" he called softly. "Can you please bring me the house key from the master bedroom?" he asked.

Dobby shimmered out and immediately back in, handing the large key to Harry, who inserted it carefully into the lock, noticing the way the wards shimmered as he turned it. Back in the entry hall they met with an intriguing sight. Apparently one of the wounded Death Eaters had managed to fight his way out of the Stunning hex. He had also managed to fight the ropes that tied him. He was too severely injured to Apparate out, even without the house lockdown in place. Instead he was crawling around, throwing weak jinxes at the elves, who shimmered in and out around him, doing their best to fix the damage he was inflicting on the room.

"_Stupefy!_"

Harry looked thankfully at Kingsley. "I didn't think to take away their wands," he said, disgusted with his lack of foresight.

"Harry," Kingsley said kindly. "You're still learning, and doing admirably. I can't think of anyone on my squad who could have managed what you did today with your friends. Even I probably would have run away instead of making a stand. Every time you survive a fight you learn."

"Every time I learn, someone else is paying the tuition..."

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It was five in the afternoon when a knock on the front door revealed the ever-smiling Professor Flitwick together with Luna and Su.

"Sorry for being a little late," he said. "We were held up for a while at the Three Broomsticks by people who were interested on our plans regarding the next school year. It took us some time to explain that it's too early for us to announce anything," he said and shrugged.

"Well, come in," smiled Hermione. "We'll go and sit in the library. Susan, Ron, and Ginny are waiting for us there. Actually it's very fortunate that you're a bit late. Harry and I are interested in learning the charm ourselves, and we both needed a little time to catch our breath. You're very lucky you weren't early, though. Half an hour sooner and you'd have found a square full of Death Eaters when you got here."

The last sentence made everyone gasp and look worriedly at Harry and Hermione. All that time Harry had been walking silently at the back of the group, only too happy to let Hermione do all the talking. The day's events had left him weary and anxious.

"I waited too long with the Fidelius and today the Death Eaters discovered our location and launched an attack on the house. We were lucky to hold them long enough for the Aurors to arrive."

"Between us and the Aurors, five Death Eaters were killed and nine more were wounded and captured," Hermione added, to deliver the whole picture.

"What Hermione didn't say is that we lost eight people to the Death Eaters."

"Aurors?" asked Su in dismay.

"No. Just innocent passers-by," he said. "I'm afraid we're already too late for the Fidelius charm," he added. "Our location is no longer a secret."

"It doesn't really matter, Harry. Let us into the library and I'll explain."

They sat around the long table exchanging greetings and offering tea and biscuits around, and then went back to their work.

"The Fidelius charm is simple to cast but requires complicated preparations in order to make it work. Applied correctly, the charm will lock all information related to the secret in everyone's mind until such time as the information will be unlocked by the secret keeper. For the charm to work properly, the charmed item must be measured, calculated, and marked. This is done with the help of Arithmancy and runes. Who here is learning both subjects?"

Due to the relatively large representation of Ravenclaw House, many positive replies were given. For a while Professor Flitwick occupied his students with the calculations and markings required for the hiding of each of their teacups. When they were ready, everyone who was interested tried to charmed his teacup. After few moments, the only ones to have teacups in front of them were Harry, Ron, and Professor Flitwick, and Dobby was sent to offer new teacups all round. After a short round of secret telling, Professor Flitwick and his students went on to the complicated calculations required for the hiding of an entire building. Harry sat there, frustrated that he could neither join the "lesson" nor cast the charm itself. He was resisting Ron's urges to join him in a chess game, preferring to talk quietly with Susan while keeping an eye on his studious friends.

"You don't have to be able to do everything by yourself."

"I know. It's just that for six years I got used to relying completely on Hermione's mind, and I let Ron influence me to slack off. Sorry, mate. I'm starting to discover that knowledge is power, and it's not only that I'm lacking in knowledge, but in some fields it's too late for me to repair the damage in time to be able to use it well. Did you know that Voldemort was one of the best students ever to graduate Hogwarts, and is an undisputed scholar?"

"Harry is right," said Professor Flitwick softly. "You-Know-Who was one of the best students I've ever had, and his knowledge of charms probably exceeds my own by now."

"Dumbledore could match his knowledge and guess his plans, based on very few clues," Harry continued. "Now we're outsmarted, and I feel that most of the time I'm just running in the dark..."

It was a few more long hours before the calculations were concluded, compared, and checked and the necessary runes were in place. Hermione was to be the one to cast the charm, and they agreed that each of them would cast the charm on one location or another during the next week to make sure that each of them was capable, in case of need.

"Who's going to be your secret keeper?"

Harry had been dreading this question since the moment he knew he would have to cast that spell. Making a person your secret keeper was an absolute declaration of trust, and his whole life had been shadowed by his trust being betrayed. Should he be his own secret keeper? He was the obvious choice, and he already attracted danger as it was. He was sure he didn't want Ron or Hermione to carry the burden, and they were the obvious alternate choices. He was afraid his reluctance to choose one of them would be interpreted as mistrust. Then again, did he really trust any of the others?

"I'll be the secret keeper!"

This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. For a long moment he was silent, trying to think of a way to decline the offer without hurting his friend's feelings. _This is one of the worst things about friends_, he thought to himself, _having to tiptoe around one's best friends' feelings_. To his considerable relief, his other friend was the smartest witch of her generation.

"You know very well that we two can't be Harry's secret keepers. It would be too obvious. Harry should either be his own secret keeper or choose someone who isn't so closely related to him." She looked at Harry intently. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"I don't really know," he said. "I'm not entirely comfortable with the thought of dumping this burden on someone's shoulders."

"I'll do it," came a timid voice from the end of the table.

Ron gave a loud snort. Luna ignored him and kept her stand. "Listen to Ronald here. No one will ever believe I'm that close to anyone that I would be trusted with such an important duty, especially not to Harry Potter—the 'Boy-Who-Lived'."

"Are you certain that you're ready to shoulder the burden? I'm sure you're well aware of the danger, and I would never have asked you to."

"I'm sure. No one will ever guess that your secret keeper is 'Loony' Luna Lovegood, and I'll do anything for you. You're my only friend."

"You do know that you have more than one friend now, don't you, Luna?"

"Thanks, Hermione," she said fighting her tears.

"Do people need to know who the secret keeper is?" Harry turned to Professor Flitwick, trying to change the subject. "When I first came here they had to show me a note from Professor Dumbledore with the house address for me to be able to see the place. Would it have worked if they hadn't told me the note was from him and he was the secret keeper?"

"This is an excellent question," smiled Professor Flitwick, returning to his teacher persona. "When the Fidelius is properly cast, everyone but the secret keeper forgets all about the hidden object. Since no one remembers the object, naturally no one remembers that it is hidden, or that a certain person is the secret keeper. Not even the one who casts the spell will remember. The secret may be revealed with an anonymous note, as long as it was made by the secret keeper and handled according to his or her instructions. This way, even if someone is caught with such a note, his captors won't be able to reveal the secret. As I see it, you can narrow down the group of people knowing the identity of the secret keeper to two—the secret keeper himself, obviously, and the first person to be notified about the secret."

"Luna, if you don't mind, I think that's the best way to handle it. You'll be the house's secret keeper, if you're still willing. You'll make few notes and hand them to me to show around. That way I'll be _your_ secret keeper, of sorts."

Luna nodded without a word, looking at Ron as he walked angrily out of the room.

"One last question before we go on casting the spell," added Hermione quietly. "We desperately need to learn how to charm Portkeys."

The ever-smiling professor looked around, clearly disturbed. "I'm sorry," he said, "Portkeys are Ministry-controlled objects and in good faith I can't teach anyone how to break the law."

"Professor," tried Su, "we're at war, and this capability might save our life."

"Obviously the Death Eaters don't inform the Ministry every time they charm a Portkey."

"I'm sorry," was all the reply he had.

"Very well," concluded Harry, "let's go on with the Fidelius then."

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**The Chosen One Supports Minister Scrimgeour**

_**The Quibbler **_

**In a press release issued last evening, Mr. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, declared his support of the Ministry of Magic in its fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters. This endorsement was issued after the much debated move, directed by Minister Scrimgeour, to purge the Ministry organisation of all Death Eaters and their supporters. **

"_**For too long the Ministry has sat on the fence and done nothing to fight either the Death Eaters or the general views, which aided the flourishing of such outlaw groups and organisations. This negligence on the part of the Ministry, which started sixteen years ago with the first fall of You-Know-Who, left You-Know-Who's men and support system out and about and did a lot to enable his quick return to power. This was further aided by the Ministry's blunt refusal to acknowledge You-Know-Who's return or to take any positive action against him and his men before he managed to gather his forces back. Apparently all this is in the past now. I praise Minister Scrimgeour for his decisive fight against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. I have been fighting You-Know-Who since the day I discovered the magical world, and hereby offer the Ministry and Minister Scrimgeour any help within my capabilities toward that goal."**_

**In reply to the Prophet's query, Mr. Potter's spokeswitch, Miss Hermione Granger, said that Harry Potter finds it more important to have a work meeting with the Minister than to have a joint press conference. **

**All this while, the Ministry and Mr. Potter continue to damage You-Know-Who's forces. According to information offered by Senior Auror Shacklebolt, five Death Eaters were killed and ten more were wounded and apprehended, without any fatalities to Ministry personnel or the magical community. This happened during an attack on Mr. Potter's residence yesterday noon. Senior Auror Shacklebolt praised Mr. Potter and a few of his friends for defending the house and delaying the Death Eaters long enough for the Aurors to arrive and turn the tide. **

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"It's back to the Potter castle for this morning."

"Your gym equipment is due later this morning. I'll need help getting it inside—we have to remember that the house doesn't exist from the delivery guy's point of view."

"I need to be with Harry, but Ron and Ginny can be here and help you. You should probably ask them to deliver the equipment to the entrance of the next house, then shrink it and move it here after the delivery people leave."

"Don't you want me with you, mate?"

"You can't help me there, Ron. You're not keyed to the place."

"So?" Ron asked, ignoring the pointed looks from his sister.

"So I told you before that I'm not letting anyone in unless it's absolutely required," Harry answered, letting some of his frustration show. "For now, I'm going to explore the place. Remus will be there since he's my parents' best friend; your brother is invited since I need him to help me out of trouble if the need arises; Luna and Hermione are there to use the library, and I trust them to keep to the library. When I know the place well enough and have some time, I'll think about giving guided tours."

A light hand on his shoulder helped Harry calm down. He turned his head to see Luna smiling at him softly. "Thanks," he mouthed to her, and turned back to face Ron again. "Did you and the twins ask Dudley for a game on his computer?"

"Fred and George did one evening when I was at the Burrow," he answered indifferently.

"You see, that's the problem," Harry said, working himself up again. "You were trusted with the task of thinking up new weapons for us to use and effective tactics to use them with. This might be the most important task any of us was charged with. You want to be helpful? **Do your job!**" And he stormed out of the kitchen, Hermione and Luna hurrying after him.

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"I have a problem here, and I'm open for suggestions before we go in," he said, trying to calm down. "The castle here is full of house-elves," he continued, looking at Hermione. "For some unknown reason they're terrified of me, and I don't know what to do."

"What about trying to speak with one of them outside the castle to try and get some answers from him?" Luna suggested.

"I think Luna has the right idea," Hermione said, smiling at the younger girl. _It's strange how in just a week I've become friends with a girl I thought to be "loony" just a year ago, and to be no one of importance all of last school year_, she thought to herself. "But I have another suggestion—why don't you call Dobby to help you talk with them? I know that elves usually find him to be too eccentric for their taste, but still he's more of an elf than you," she said teasingly.

"Dobby!"

Seconds later his favourite elf appeared in the room, looking around curiously.

"I need a big favour from you today," Harry said to his elf friend, watching him stand taller with pride. "In that castle…right, just one second—" He took out his wand and waved it above Dobby's head, keying him to the ward. "That castle," he added "is inhabited by a large group of house-elves. I went inside and discovered that for some reason they're terrified of me. Can you help me talk with one of them to discover the reason, and hopefully ease their fear?"

Dobby said nothing but nodded eagerly.

"Rully? Can you hear me? Can you come here, please?" Harry asked, relieved when the middle-aged elf appeared silently in front of him, cowering as he saw the people around the room. Harry noted the red-blue uniform and the frightened yet resolved look in the elf's eyes, before starting the conversation.

"I is Dobby. I is Harry Potter sir's elf," Dobby began, startling Harry.

"I is Rully. I is of the elves of the castle."

"Master says elves of Castle Potter is afraid of master."

Harry and Hermione listened bemused to this conversation.

"We is not afraid," said the Potter's elf. "We is...concerned," he added, looking embarrassed, if such a thing were possible.

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a small giggle. "What?" Harry mouthed, giving her a puzzled look. She shook her head slightly and turned back to the elves.

"Can you tell us the reason for your concern?" she asked.

"I will be happy to know it," Harry added. "I'm very uncomfortable about having elves who are 'concerned' about me, especially since I can't even imagine your reason."

"Harry Potter sir is the bestest master in the world. Harry Potter sir freed Dobby from his old master. Dobby was very 'concerned' about his old family."

Rully didn't look too reassured. He looked around, appearing at a loss for what to say. Hermione decided to help him a little. "Harry," she said, "I have something important to show you in the library." Seeing Harry look at her quizzically, she added, "We can leave Rully and Dobby to get to know each other better."

Harry followed her grumpily up the stairs. "I think it might be better if we let Dobby try and get to know Rully alone to start with," Hermione explained. Harry nodded and went into the library with a very excited Hermione. "The books here are just unbelievable," she exclaimed as soon as they were in the small, crowded room. She walked to the window and looked in amazement at the castle standing proudly across a wide green field. "This is unbelievable too," she said. "It looks like something out of a Disney film."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with the place. It's not like I'll ever feel comfortable enough to live here. I wonder if my parents ever lived here. This house seems so comfortable and family-like. I just can't imagine them living there with this herd of house-elves serving them."

"How is it inside?"

"Just as you'd imagine, seeing it from here."

Just then, a little _pop!_ signalled the arrival of their favourite house-elf.

"Tell me, Dobby," said a very curious Harry. "Can you control how much noise you make while Apparating in or out?"

"Dobby can choose, but Dobby is not Apparate."

Harry looked at his friend, his mind racing to grasp the fact he'd just heard. Then he came back to the matter at hand. "Remind me to ask you about it in the evening," he said. "What did you find out from Rully?"

"Rully ask master to come downstairs."

Returning to the ground floor, they could see Rully standing with a very old looking female elf.

"Good morning," Harry said politely.

"Good morning, milord Potter. We are delighted to make your acquaintance. My name is Ravi."

"I'm sure the pleasure is ours," answered Hermione, looking quizzically at her friend.

"These are my friends, Hermione and Dobby. Please call me Harry. I'm no one's lord."

"I might beg to differ."

Apparently, once the wood-elves disappeared the house-elves were left in the world with no one to serve. Service is a genetic need for house-elves, and it was reinforced by millennia of serving other races. Originally they served in the wood-elves' households and as regular soldiers in their armies. During the centuries after the wood-elves' disappearance, the house-elves offered their services to other races in a struggle to find their place in the world. Most of the house-elves found home in wizarding households. The problem was that most wizards offered the house-elves neither the respect nor the trust they deserved. House-elves were usually restricted to low-level house maintenance work and were certainly offered no military duties.

Later on, as the magical world went into hiding, the house-elves were effectively trapped. While the Goblin nation hid underground and the centaurs in forests, the elves were confined to wizarding households for their own protection. The convergence of wizarding families behind blood wards promised hard times for the elves. The elves' unique use of magic enabled them to bypass wards. Wizarding families had grown both dependent on and fearful of their house-elves.

It was during these days that the bonds of servitude were introduced. These bonds turned servants into slaves. A house-elf's servitude lasted for the length of the elf's life and the lives of all his descendants. As more and more elves were enslaved, the few remaining free house-elves tried to hide their abilities and appear as unthreatening as possible. House-elves bound to wizarding families hid behind the costumes of unintelligent, anxious to please, cowering creatures. A few centuries of enslavement and hiding took a dire toll on bound elves. Magical bonds affect the bonded body on a molecular level, and almost all house-elves these days needed to be bonded to a wizard or a wizarding household in order to keep their magic. The very few wizards who knew about free elves said nothing about it, ever, to anyone.

"You are free elves! This is marvellous!" Hermione enthused.

"Yes, milady. There are two kinds of free elves in the world: the ones who serve the very few families who preferred to trust their elves, and the ones from families who have died out. Two days ago we thought we were among the very fortunate few of the first kind. We were sad to think that we were also of the second kind."

"Was that the reason the elves in the castle appeared to fear me?"

"Mostly," answered Rully. "For two centuries we took care of our household with no humans able to enter the place. We are house-elves and proud to serve a family member, but we were afraid that as our master you would disapprove of the way we handled the household and family assets. The other reason was that we are proud to be free elves. We were afraid you would insist on bonding us to you or your household."

"How much do I owe you for all these years?" The smile was apparent on Harry's face.

"We've taken care of the family's finances since the day we thought the family had died out. We took care to pay everyone in the household their due on time. We did quite nicely with the family's assets, too, master." Ravi bowed deeply.

"Please, Ravi, Rully—there is no need to bow to me, and you are free elves. Please call me by my name, not master. You're not my subjects; at most, you're my employees."

"We are in the service of your house. We are free, and we're proud to call you master by our own choice," was the answer.

Harry looked at his friend, searching for support, and saw only pride in the elves who were behaving with the pride that Hermione envisioned for them. He shrugged and turned back to the elves. "I have just one more question about the place which is bothering me. If the castle was warded with blood wards, why did my parents live in the small gate cottage and depend on the Fidelius charm? They could have lived here at the Potter castle and been a lot safer."

"I'm sorry, milord. I don't know about your parents' choices, but this is not the Potter castle. The Potter family lived in the Potter manor house—" Ravi pointed at a largish old-fashioned house built on a hill on the outskirts of the castle field— "since the sixteenth century. They were never protected by the wards. This castle does not belong to the Potter house. This is the Castle Ravenclaw."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but decided that he had nothing intelligent to say and just looked at his friend, who looked like the _Webster_ definition of the word "gobsmacked".

"You mean that the personal library of Rowena Ravenclaw is in there?" Hermione asked, noting the small nod of the old elf. "Well? Come on!" she told her friend and practically dragged him up the gravel path toward the castle.

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Dinner at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was an amusing affair. Most of the time they sat and listened to Hermione babble on and on about the wonders of the old, large, interesting, diverse, amazing—and many more adjectives—library, all with uncontrolled excitement and shining eyes.

"I had to threaten her with removing her from the wards in order to drag her out of the place," he told Dan and Emma, who looked at their daughter with loving eyes. "She didn't really believe me but wasn't willing to take the chance," he told them, looking fondly at his excited friend.

"So, you are of the Ravenclaw family?" asked Ron from across the table.

"Apparently, since I was able to cross the wards, but I had no idea."

"I would never have guessed."

"I'm with Luna. I wouldn't have been too surprised to find some blood connection to Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw?"

"Why Gryffindor, dear?"

"I was able to use his sword."

"When did you use Gryffindor's sword, dear?"

"Harry used it in the Chamber to kill the Basilisk and save me."

There was a short silence before Harry shrugged and went on with the conversation. "There's one very strange thing I can't manage to find an answer to. My parents lived just across a field from the place and knew nothing about it. If they couldn't see the place, how can **I** be 'of blood'?"

"Didn't you find a family tree there?"

"I did, Bill, but that's the weird part—I wasn't on it."

"Did you add your blood to the rug?"

Harry gave Fleur an inquiring look.

"When bloodlines are cut, the family tree needs a blood sample of the new family branch in order to trace it," she explained.

"I didn't know. I'll try that the next time I'm there."

Just then the hearth blazed green, and Neville's head appeared in the fire. "Harry, are you there?"

Harry ran to the fire. "Here, what's the matter?"

"They're going to nominate a Parkinson as Headmaster of Hogwarts," Neville said. "They're assembling again in about an hour at Hogwarts."

"On my way," Harry said. "Would you meet me at Hogsmeade station in fifteen minutes?"

Neville nodded and disappeared from the fire. "Hermione, sorry to cut your story short," Harry said. "Go get your dress robes. We're going to help the Governors elect the right Headmaster for Hogwarts," he smiled.

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For a week, debates had been held regarding the reopening of the school. In reality, no one was truly interested in closing the school down. Hogwarts was an important symbol in the wizarding world and helped England to maintain its leading role in the wizarding world. Closing the school down would weaken England's international wizarding status and would be an open admission of the Ministry's failure in fighting the Dark Lord; that, and the fact that almost no family in England was prepared to home-tutor their children at a respectable level.

On the other hand, there was a chance to use the threat of closedown as leverage to enforce changes at the school. It all boiled down to the identity of the future Headmaster. The sensible choice for the position was Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, who was currently filling the position in provisional status. Other circles were trying to use the crisis in order to nominate a more "sensible" person for the position, as a means of lessening the school's image as the base of the Light. After a very long week of debates and politics, two nominees stood, Minerva McGonagall and Daniel Bernardo Parkinson.

"Daniel Bernardo Parkinson is a very talented person. He taught Defence against the Dark Arts at the Durmstrang Institute for five years, and taught Defence against the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts. He has faced endless offensive accusations, which have all been proven to be unfounded. For too long Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was used as a tool in the hands of the late Albus Dumbledore to gain political power, manipulate wizarding England, and influence the minds of our young ones, without consulting—and in some cases even against the clear instructions of—the Ministry and this body of Governors. It's time to put this school in the hands of a new Head who will lead the school in the path of academic excellence, and out of our world's politics."

"It's no use, Mr. Lafrenz," said Mrs. Longbottom, clearly worn out by the endless futile negotiations. "It's best that we move on to the vote."

The vote was a simple affair. Each of the Governors pointed his or her wand at the table in front of them, thought about their preferred nominee, and pronounced the voting spell. The outcome of the vote was much more complicated to work with—for the sixth time the vote was tied between the two nominees.

"I'd be very interested to know how nominating a Headmaster from a family who openly supports Voldemort is going to take Hogwarts out of the political debate."

Mr. Lafrenz cringed at the sound of Voldemort's name and sneered when he saw Harry, Neville, and Hermione walk into the room. _He must have gone to the same school as Malfoy and Snape_, Harry thought to himself, and smiled at the thought.

"You're a very stupid child to sa that name," said Mr. Lafrenz. "You have no place here."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid he's right—you have no right to be here." Professor McGonagall looked very disappointed in her students.

"You are not running this country, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked thoughtful at the last speaker.

Neville gave his grandmother an intent look and turned to address the room in general. "I just came here to learn," he said with a smile. "This is such an important vote and I'll be taking my place with you right after my coming of age in about two weeks' time."

"I looked at the background of this board and I fear that no representation is given to the interests of Muggleborn students." Hermione smiled and turned toward Mr. Parkinson, who was sitting at the side of the room. "I'm curious about your views regarding the inefficient preparations given to Muggleborn students with respect to wizarding traditions and culture. I'd also be interested in hearing your plans regarding the class in Muggle Studies, which is currently archaic and irrelevant."

"I'm not running this country, Minister Scrimgeour, but I play a large part in the fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Sadly, the choice of the new Headmaster for this school is part of this fight." Harry turned to face Mr. Lafrenz. "Sir," he asked, "what are your views regarding the fight against Voldemort?"

Once again Mr. Lafrenz recoiled at the sound of Voldemort's name and shot a hateful look at Harry for posing the question.

"You don't have to be so afraid of his name," Harry went on. "It's not a charm to summon Tom here. It's just a made-up name," he said. "Try it—Voldemort!"

Mr. Lafrenz kept recoiling from Harry. "Voldemort!" Harry said, advancing to stand directly in front of him. "Voldemort! Voldemort!" he repeated. "How will you fight him? Are you even interested in fighting him?"

This was too much for Mr. Lafrenz and he reached for his wand, only to find Neville's pointed at his throat. A man in the corner of the room tried to go for his wand but stopped as he saw Hermione's wand aimed at his head and the slight shake of her head. Harry reached out his hand and rolled Mr. Lafrenz's left sleeve up, revealing a clear Dark Mark. "It's curious that I find a few of these every time I bother to check," he said to the Minister, taking the man's wand out of his hand and unceremoniously breaking snapping it in two.

"I think we'd better get on with the vote," remarked Hermione, watching two Aurors put Mr. Lafrenz's hands in anti-Apparation handcuffs and Portkey him away. "This debate has been going on for a week without the public finding out about it. If you don't vote today, there will be an interesting story in tomorrow's newspapers in which the debate will be revealed to the public together with your names, your views on the subject, and our views as well."

This time the vote showed a clear election.

Walking out of the room, Harry was stopped by the Minister. "I can't fault your stand here today," he said, "But you can't go on forever ignoring the law."

"I'll stop the moment the Ministry agrees to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters effectively, or the moment he dies—the sooner the better. So far I can only see very early signs of change in the Ministry. It's still the same Ministry that forced Professor Dumbledore to fight for his good name and mine, while the Ministry did everything in its power to ignore the Death Eaters and oppress sentient beings like werewolves."

"What are you talking about? Dumbledore endorsed every anti-werewolf law passed by the Ministry and was very imaginative in suggesting new methods of limiting their freedom."

Harry just looked at the Minister, speechless...

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AN – This took me a little longer than usual to write. I wasn't helped by the fact that for a couple of weeks I was more in the mood to read fanfic then to write. Then there is the fact that the chapters keep getting longer…

Thank you all and especially those who took the time to review.

Niv


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Professor McGonagall To Be Headmistress of Hogwarts**

**After a week of debate, ****the ****Hogwarts ****Board of G****overnors decided today to reopen the school for the next school year. A few weeks ago, as Albus Dumbledore, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, was killed during a Death Eater attack on the school, many students were removed from school grounds by their parents, who swore their children would never return. The breach of Hogwarts security made the Ministry and the governing body of the school consider closing down the school for as long as the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters continues. Further study ****has ****show****n**** that, even in these dangerous times, the school is a much safer place for almost all students than their homes. In addition, most Wizarding families, not to mention families of Muggleborn wizards and witches, are not prepared to home-tutor their magical children to a respectable standard.**

"_**Hogwarts is the oldest school in the modern wizarding world and is currently the most respected wizarding school in the world, academically speaking," declared Minister Scrimgeour to the Prophet after the conclusion of last night's final meeting of the school**__**'s G**__**overnors. "Closing the school would be a declaration of defeat by the Ministry, and we are certainly not ready for this. The Ministry will make any effort needed and will see that Hogwarts is the safest place in England for its students during the coming school year." **_

**During that meeting, former Deputy Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, was confirmed as the Headmistress of Hogwarts for the next school year. Rumours had reached the **_**Prophet**_** claiming that the school Governors were considering other candidates for the position. Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, head of Hogwarts' Governor body remarked that Prof. McGonagall has ****an ****exceptional academic and managing record, and that the school Governors ****had ****not seriously consider****ed**** any other candidates for the position. The **_**Prophet**_** is honoured to wish Professor McGonagall success in her new role.**

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"Today we start for real." Hermione smiled at her friends. "I have asked my mother to help us with a few pointers to start with. She's been working on her shape for a long time now and knows her way around the gym."

"Good morning, I'm sure you're going to enjoy it." Emma smiled too. "Feeling in good shape is one of the best feelings there is. I've talked with Harry and Hermione, and I understand that you're more interested in physical endurance than in sheer muscle mass and power." A few of them nodded in agreement. Others just looked at Emma with confused eyes. "Therefore," she went on, "your main form of training will be running. Let's start with your training gear. Can you go and change?"

More confused looks were exchanged. Hermione took her robes off and looked around the room. She noticed that except for herself, the only people to be dressed appropriately were Harry, Fleur and, strangely enough, Luna. Harry was wearing shorts, one of Dudley's old and baggy T-shirts, and new trainers. Fleur was her magnificent self with a silver and pink top-of-the-line, revealing-to-a-measure workup outfit, complete with matching sport shoes. Luna, for her part, surprised Hermione with a complete Manchester United suit in Home colours with a David Beckham jersey. The others just stood there staring at their friends. Neville looked open-mouthed between Hermione and Fleur, not expecting the tight and revealing clothes. Hermione was certain that he had only just noticed that she was, in fact, a girl. Ron was his usual self and stared at Fleur, mesmerised, until Harry noticed and gave him a friendly shake.

Emma looked around at the group of young men and women. "In order to work out, you need the right clothes," she said. "It needs to be either tight and elastic, or loose-fitting. The clothes need to be made from fabric which will absorb your sweat and help it vaporise quickly to cool your body. Then you need appropriate shoes. Regular ones will ruin your feet and back after a very short run.

"We will use Transfiguration for this morning's workout and will visit a shop to buy everyone sport clothes later in the afternoon."

While Hermione and Fleur worked their way around, Transfiguring everyone into running clothes, Harry turned his attention to Luna. "Beckham?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"He was such a nice boy," she said, with a dreamy expression that was somehow different then her usual dreamy expression. "He helped Pop and me looking for Nargles. Then he taught me how to bounce a ball on my knee and head."

Looking back around the room, Harry saw his friends starting to look more sportsmanlike. Most went with the shorts and T-shirt look, but Susan and Ginny chose to wear tights.

"Right, we can go on with the plan. The first thing to do is to warm up your body." Emma went on to demonstrate a series of stretches and bends to warm one's body for the workout. She instructed them to follow her lead, and went around watching and correcting them.

"You should commit to the stretch as far as you can," she told Su and Neville, who were doing their warm-ups half-heartedly. "Every time you do the warm-up and cool-down exercises you'll be able to stretch longer and bend farther. In a few months you'll become quit flexible; which is a good thing. Don't slack," she told Ron, walking on around the room. "If you don't warm up correctly you'll have worse cramps than you're going to have anyway." Ron, who was occupying himself with watching Fleur from behind as she bent at the waist and touched the floor with her palms, then hugged her knees to bend even farther, shook himself and tried some stretches.

"Enjoying the view?" he heard his brother ask him sarcastically from behind his shoulder, and Ron redoubled his efforts.

"Right," called Emma, turning everyone's attention back to her. "Since it's a lovely day outside, we're going to run at the local park. When it's rainy you'll be able to do your runs on the treadmills, located down in the basement. We'll do sit-ups, pull-ups, and push-ups to work on your upper body. Today we'll only run for a mile and a half, as this is the very first time for most of you. I expect you'll all be running three miles or more, at a respectable pace, in two months' time. Come along."

They walked in a brisk pace to the local park, where Emma led them five times around the running track. Soon enough most of them were breathless and slowing down. "Come on!" Emma shouted at them. "Push on! You can do it!" Fifteen minutes later they were standing, panting, at the centre of the track, getting ready for the rest of their training.

"Next—a little upper body work-out," cried Emma, much too enthusiastically for everyone's taste. "Sit-ups, girls," she said, ignoring the hurt looks on Ron and Neville's faces. "Look at Hermione demonstrate. One person lies down with his knees bent—see, hands held behind the head. The other holds his feet and counts; each time the elbows touch one's knees, it's one sit-up. I want you to pair up and do fifty sit-ups each, in turns. Then do fifty again each. If you feel you can do it, go for seventy-five a set, but no more. We'll have you doing double one hundred sit-up sets and more by the end of the month." Soon enough they were fighting their abs. "Excellent job!" she told a breathless Ginny. "Stay down and hold your knees to your chest to keep your abs from cramping." She turned to the group and repeated the same instructions. "This is not a sit-up," she said, watching Ron. "Do it again, and do it right this time. You only cheat on yourself. If you won't work seriously, the others will run circles around you in a few weeks' time." Ron gave her the best accusing look he was capable of in his exhausted state and repeated the few last sit-ups. "Much better!" she enthused. "Now do the cool-down like the others."

Push-ups and pull-ups were more of the same, and most of them couldn't finish more than a very few, except Hermione and the ever-amazing Fleur. "Well done, everyone. I know I've been hard on most of you, but it will get much better very soon. I expect you to be able to run three miles, do double sets of one hundred sit-ups, fifty push-ups, and about twenty pull-ups in a few months' time. I'll help you for the next few weeks, until you'll get the hang of it. Then you'll be able to keep it up by yourselves."

Back at Grimmauld Place, they were led by Harry and Ginny to a large room in the attic. Harry smiled and waved his hand to direct everyone's attention to a hotly blushing Ginny. "Right," she gulped, embarrassed by all the attention. "This is the training room that Harry and I prepared for our use, with a lot of help from my dearest and oldest of brothers. As you can see, it's much larger than it has any right to be." She smiled as soft chuckles greeted her tentative joke. "The main feature of the room is that it is warded quite heavily to sustain and hide magic. We can use everything up to about Reductos level without doing any damage to the room and, considering the Fidelius on the house, without anyone knowing about it. We'll try to make it better, but for now we can start to use it as it is."

"I consulted with our resident _senior_ Aurors, and we'll start our training with a few very simple drills." Bill addressed the group, smiling brightly at Tonks. They both waved their wands and fourteen circular targets appeared on the walls around them. "These targets will keep your score. The closer to the centre of the target you hit, the higher your score is. The more frequently you hit the target, again—the higher your score will be. Your eventual score will be the weighted mean of the number of hits and their accuracy during the set. We'll use ten-minute sets to start with. Use sparks for this exercise. Eventually we'll use Reducto and compensate for power and magical endurance in the equation. Choose your targets and go."

Harry went to the farthest wall; chose a target about in the centre of it; took out his wand; concentrated a moment, and started sending red sparks at it. His first shot was way off-centre. His counter flashed 50. He took better aim and sent another ray of sparks. This try was better. The score flashed 80, and then changed back to 60. The next shot showed 85 and 68. "You should work faster," remarked Tonks, who was walking behind him, and he immediately went back to the drill. Ten minutes later Harry looked at the score board, which showed 78 and 82. To his left, Neville looked proudly at his score: 75/70. On his other side, Luna showed an incredibly consistent 70/75. The most accurate was Remus, with a respectable 84/81. The worst around was Ron, with a 62/74.

"Gather around, everyone," called Bill at the end of the first set. "Let's look at the scores and learn." Tonks held a parchment with all their scores and addressed the group. "An enlisted Auror usually does a consistent 80/80 on this drill. This means that he will be able to hit and damage his target, but is not encouraged to try anything showy like hitting a Death Eater's hand to make him drop his wand and keep him alive and conscious. Obviously an Auror will do that with a draining curse like a Reducto and not with sparks. With this in mind, Remus's score shows he is good and efficient with his wand—" she gave him a too-wide smile— "and Harry's score shows he is much more capable than expected. I expect everyone to reach an even and consistent low to mid-70 score during the next week, and to reach the upper 70s to low 80s in a couple of months, using real curses. Keep these going for about an hour and we'll move on."

Harry went back to his target. His next set was down from the first one on accuracy. The next set was starting to show his advances. Low 80s on his score board turned to high 80s and, during the next couple of sets, low to mid 90s started to make an appearance. His vision narrowed and focused on the steady stream of red light connecting his wand to the centre of his target. His numbers changed more and more slowly as he gained consistency, but he wasn't paying his board any notice. He was about to start a new set when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Tonks pointing at his score board. It showed 91/93.

During the last hour all of them did great and all the score-boards showed scores above 70 except for Ron, who was still fighting accuracy with a well paced 67/84, and Hermione, who was his opposite with an 89/71.

"This is very good, everyone. Hermione, when you hit someone mid-body with a Reducto, he's dead or out of the fight. You don't have to hit him straight in the heart. Better trade a little accuracy for better firepower. Ron, you're her opposite. Try to take time to aim instead of throwing your magic so fast. Harry, this is truly amazing. I'm in awe. Go get something to drink and come back."

A table with small sandwiches and pitchers of water and pumpkin juice appeared in the centre of the room, and everyone helped themselves to a little.

"What do you think about our boy wonder?"

Tonks looked at her boyfriend as she considered her answer. "He has one of the best scores I've ever seen in this drill, but I must say it doesn't mean much yet. I need to see him perform with real curses and moving targets to learn anything useful about his abilities. These first drills are really only meant to acquire basic fighting skills. I don't want to push any of them too far, too soon, and I don't want to single him out of the group yet."

"Well, after what Remus and I saw in Godric's Hollow, I can't wait to see him use real curses too."

Tonks nodded at Bill and turned to call the group to her. "Ladies? Let's do it again!" Tonks waited for everyone to get to their targets and take aim before she added, "and, ladies, this time hold your wands in your other hand."

There were a lot of murmuring voices around the room, before, hesitantly, magic started to fly around. Scores dropped considerably into embarrassingly low territory. Many sparks went out of target and high 20s to mid-30s marks showed all around. Tonks waited for them to finish the first set before speaking to them again. "This is one of the most important drills you will do. It is very likely in a battle that you could lose the use of your main hand. If you're not capable of at least defending yourself using your weaker hand, then you're dead meat. If you're serious about fighting this war, then I expect you to reach a score of at least low 50s in this drill with your off hand, otherwise I won't clear you to fight. Go back and try again!"

For a moment Tonks looked around the room. Then she took aim and sent her curse. She grimaced as the number 42 showed. She tried once again to get a 44. _So much for clearing myself for battle_, she thought. With a look of resolve she squared her shoulders, raised her wand, and started her set. It had been too long since the Auror corps had paid attention to regular skill training, and it showed painfully. She was going to get her new squad of trainees in about two weeks' time and she was not going to demonstrate to them showing these kinds of numbers...

Twenty minutes later Tonks lowered her wand to see 54/49 on the board. With a little frown she called the end of the session. "Right, ladies; we're not going to win this thing today. I expect you to keep this up during the coming months until you start to get better scores repeatedly."

"Hey!" called Fred. "What's with the 'ladies' thing?"

"Well, I look at the scores and see that, generally speaking, the ladies here do better then you blokes, so I thought to give you a compliment to cheer you up." Tonks ignored the grumbling sounds around the room and went on to introduce a new drill. "Up till now you've been playing with targets, which are standing still in plain view. It may be a probable scenario in schoolyard fights, but not against Death Eaters. During the next few sets the targets are going to start moving. We're going to do about ten sets of this new and exciting game, and the motion of the targets will become faster and more unpredictable from set to set. Go to your targets and start."

Hermione found this drill much more to her liking. Since she was a very calculating person—maybe too calculating with her magic—she was having difficulty in throwing her magic around in rapid cycles. Then she had a horrible time trying to use her wand with her left hand. Until today she hadn't even thought of that possibility. This drill was more to her liking. She took her time to notice the motion of the target, took aim, predicted changes in its movement, and (usually) sent her magic to the right place. Her numbers were accordingly respectable, 82/81. In this drill a slower pace of casting was expected, so it wasn't damaging her accuracy scores. To her right, Ginny was doing nicely too. The two exchanged satisfied smiles and went back to their targets for another set.

Almost two hours later Tonks called them to her to introduce the last drill for the day. "This time not only the targets will be moving. Each one of you has two hiding places. You will get out from behind one of them, try and hit a target, then hide behind the other. Stay too long out in the open and you lose points. Do it too slowly and you lose points too. If I see you aren't trying hard enough I'll make the targets shoot jinxes back at you. Go, now!"

This was much more difficult. After just a few moments most of them were breathless and the scores showed it very clearly.

"We haven't done this drill in the Auror corps for about four years now," Tonks remarked quietly to Remus. "I'm very much afraid that most of the Aurors would fall on their asses after no more than two sets of this, certainly if the targets were charmed to fire back."

"What are you planning to do?" Remus asked, watching Neville fall down in exhaustion. He gave him a few seconds to catch his breath, then sent a mild stinging hex at him to encourage him to go on.

"This is actually a good opportunity for me. I'm going to get my new men in two weeks' time. With the exception of a day or two of administrative work, I have most of my time till then free." She took aim at Susan and "encouraged" her to keep on with the drill, the same way Remus had "encouraged" Neville earlier. "I'm planning to make a lot of use of this room during this time so I'll be in acceptable shape when my men come."

Around the room, most of the group stopped practicing in utter exhaustion. Only five of them kept going. Fleur and Hermione were tied fighting for the best score. Apparently, Fleur was in amazing shape and was hardly sweating at all. She was quick, agile, graceful, and quite a treat for the eye. Hermione was in quite good shape herself, and more accurate with her magic. Harry, as usual, was doing his best, and his best was nothing to be ashamed of. He was visibly tired and slowing, but he kept moving and his aim was as good as ever. On the other side of the room, Ginny and Luna were fighting to make their tired bodies go on. They both were exhausted, their aim was off, and they were clearly going on pure determination by then. As they heard Tonks signal the end of the drill they both collapsed to the floor, panting and smiling tiredly at each other.

"Next time I'll outdo you." Ginny did her best to smile.

"There will be Snorkacks flying first," was the answer.

"That isn't fair," remarked Hermione in her most serious voice, smiling widely to Harry. "We don't really know if the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is a flying beast or not."

All around people were fighting their smiles until finally Luna and Ginny exchanged a look and broke down laughing. Soon, everyone in the room was laughing hysterically. All except Ron, that is. He was standing in the middle of the room, helping Harry stand and shaking his head, murmuring quite clearly, "Mental, they all are..."

"Right, girls; let's finish this off for the day. We've done wonderful work for a first day of training and I'm quite proud of you all. Tomorrow I'll join you for your morning run, and then I'll need to be at the Ministry for the day. I want you to repeat this day's drills again, only use small jinxes like tickling or jelly-legs jinxes instead of the sparks. Don't overdo it yet, and please don't use draining curses for a few more days. First, I don't want you to start throwing badly aimed curses around until you all get the hang of these drills. Secondly, I'm not sure that the room is warded well enough for you all to start throwing your Reductos all together. We'll get there in about a week's time. Now, it's a little late for lunch so I believe you'd better head to the kitchen."

"Lunch!" enthused Ron and ran out of the room, followed closely by Su Li, of all people.

"I'll see you all tomorrow at six," shouted Tonks over the voices of the hungry teens.

"Didn't you say we'd meet in the morning?"

"Yes, Susan dear," she answered with a cheeky smile. "That was six o'clock in the **morning**."

Remus, Bill, Fleur, and Tonks stood and watched the teenagers run down to the kitchen.

"This was entertaining," remarked Bill. "I never thought to use my left hand to cast."

"Most never think about it," Tonks answered, "and unless you plan to get into a fight there's no reason to do so. In actual battle, this may be the single most important skill you use."

"What's next?"

"Well, more of the same. The drills will become more complicated; then more draining. In a week or two we'll get to power handling and maintaining. They have so much more to learn to be efficient. More curses, shields, wards; then more drills to train using the new knowledge. We're in for about six months of training before they'll be ready."

"I'll take care to upgrade the warding around this room to handle more magic."

"Thanks, Bill."

"One last important thing," said Tonks. "We need to find a source for more wands. If we're trying to turn them into some kind of elite squad, each one of them will need two more wands. General use wands will be good. If we can source and finance custom-made wands it will be much better."

"It's a sad thing that Ollivander has disappeared."

"It's a sad thing, no argument, but he wouldn't have agreed to sell you spare wands. He never crossed the Ministry in all his years."

"I have someone I need to trace," remarked Remus. "He was Ollivander's apprentice some fifty years ago, but got bitten before he was able to open his own workshop. He is old and weakened but a good craftsman, and surely can use the money."

"I'll Floo home too. We have a distant relative in Bulgaria who made my wand. I'll try to contact him."

"Great; you do that and tell me what you've got in a few days."

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"What are your plans for the afternoon?"

"Luna and I were planning to go to her place to put it under the Fidelius. I understand that Susan, Ginny, and Su plan the same thing at Susan's."

The three girls nodded in agreement.

"With all the calculations, I believe it will take us till late in the evening, if we can do it at all. Then I promised the girls I'd take them shopping for sportswear if we still have the time. Do you want to join us and try the charm again?"

"Nah; it will be a waste of all our time. I can't do the calculations needed for the charm in the first place. I'll just stay here and do some reading. I have something important to look through as soon as possible."

"Harry?" came a soft, almost timid voice from the end of the long table.

He raised his head to see Dudley looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Dudley asked worriedly.

Harry was tired, but in a good mood. He nodded again and looked at his cousin, waiting for the question to come.

"I saw the new gym you built in the basement here. Can I use it a little when it's empty?"

Harry found the question to be quite trivial.

"I'd just use it a little," Dudley went on, not sure about Harry's lack of response. "I want to work out a little to get ready for next boxing year."

"Sure thing," was Harry's final response. "You can join us if you like, or the place will be empty most of the day."

"Thanks."

"The problem is that we're only interested in physical endurance, so the room is set only for that. You'll need more equipment than we have in order to prepare for the boxing season."

"That's okay." Dudley was surprised by Harry's unexpected expression of interest.

"Maybe you can do me a favour in return," Harry continued. "If you can, I'll give you money to take the boys here to a sport shop to buy running clothes and shoes. Then you can buy yourself the extra equipment you need. Just ask Remus here before you pay for something we can easily make ourselves, like free weights and the like."

Dudley was shocked by his cousin's willingness to help. "You don't need to buy me anything," he said hesitantly.

"Don't mention it." Harry dismissed Dudley's worries. "And while you're at it, maybe you can show Ron here how to play your computer game," he added, giving Ron a pointed look.

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A little later Harry found himself alone in his room with his mother's notebook. Strangely enough, it was a very girly notebook—pinkish with flowery decoration around the edges. Inside was a short note:

_Harry,_

_It will be best, if possible, that you read this notebook at the library of our cottage at Godric's Hollow. It was written there and all the necessary reference books mentioned will be at hand. _

He took his mother's advice and Apparated to Godric's Hollow to proceed with his reading at the library desk.

_This notebook contains all the information and plans Frank and I have gathered and made in preparation for the war. I strongly encourage you to show everything in it to ether Frank or Neville as soon as possible. Otherwise, this notebook is charmed so that only you, Neville, and people __to whom __you willingly give permission will be able to read it. There is one part of the plan which is not included here. You will__ hear__, or have heard all about it in your meeting with the Goblins at Gringotts. _

_Writing this, our goal was to pass __on __the information needed in order to prepare a small group of witches and wizards to be an effective force in battle __in__ a short period of time. All the information here can be taught to every post-OWL wizard during a month's time, and then drilled during two more__ months__. It will not make them knowledgeable wizards, just effective in battle. I __strongly __encourage you to seek help from Muggles with military background regarding group fighting tactics. Muggles are much more accomplished in all military disciplines than wizards and can give you an edge._

_I truly hope that you will read this and just shrug your shoulders in confusion, but if in need, this might give you a hand from beyond..._

_Love,_

_Mum_

Once again Harry fought his tears. He paged through the notebook and was amazed by the practical and detailed information gathered in the booklet. Curses, charms, shields and wards, communication, secrecy, transportation, and healing; it was all there, stripped to the bare minimum needed, detailed with casting information, recommended drills and reference books, which were all concentrated on a small shelf near the desk. Frank Longbottom and his own mother were literally his saviours. At the back of the booklet Harry found the most intriguing entry in the notebook—Oberon's port.

The description made Harry's eyes widen with amazement. The Oberon's port was an artefact of unknown origin held by the Potter family for centuries. It functioned like a regular Portkey. Once the holder knew the exact coordinates of a location, or could visualise the place in his head, he could tap the artefact and be there. It didn't need an incantation or a pre-made charm. It wasn't affected by wards of any kind. It was the absolute transportation tool. Lily had a touch of genius and hid it in plain view. She hid the small armlet inside a regular, very girly, lime and pink ball-point pen—a place where no wizard would ever look for it. Now it was innocently inserted through the spiral binding of his notebook.

Once finished with the notebook, Harry took out Gringotts' copy of his mother's letter to him, which he kept inside the notebook. He took the now familiar note out of its envelope and read it again to feel his connection with his mother once more. He'd read his copy of the letter about a dozen times by then and knew it completely by heart. Then, at the bottom of the letter, he found a few lines, which were absent from the other copy of the letter:

_P.S. At the back of the cottage I can see a large castle. Your father doesn't know about it and can't see it. He took me and the boys to show us his Quidditch field "through the woods" when it is in the middle of a wide clear field. I said nothing and hope to investigate and write you about what I will find there._

At least now Harry knew who the Ravenclaw in his family was.

He carefully inserted the letter back into its envelope and cached it back at the back of his mother's notebook. With the notebook safely in his robe's inner pocket he took a good look at the pen. He concentrated for a moment, then pressed the button of the pen to find himself standing in his small and very barren room at Privet Drive. There was no pull behind the navel, no whirlwind, no stumbling and fighting to stay on foot—just an instant change of location. He closed his eyes and pressed the button again, reopening them in his master bedroom at Grimmauld Place. _This is great! Let's check it through wards_, he thought to himself and pressed the button again to find himself standing in the main hall of Ravenclaw castle. _This __isn't__ a good test. I'm allowed to be here_, he thought. He tried to think about a place he could try to go where he had to bypass hostile wards. Gringotts was the first place that came to mind, but he dismissed it as soon as he thought about the place. He didn't know if the wards would give notice of his arrival and didn't want the Goblins as his enemies if it did. He took a short look at his map and after a moment's thought he was standing in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

"Hello, my boy."

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn't know if it was because of the sight of his old mentor in a portrait or the fact that his mother's letter, together with his discoveries of late, had made him lose much of the trust and respect he used to have for the man. Right now he was mostly confused and couldn't stop himself from feeling a little ashamed. _Why __should __I b ashamed?_ he wondered. _I__'ve done__ nothing wrong_?

"I'm so happy to see you. I was just going to ask Minerva to invite you here for us to talk. By the way, thank you for helping her retain her position as Headmistress of Hogwarts. She well deserves the position and will help maintain Hogwarts' reputation both as the most prestigious magical school in the world and as a stronghold for the Light. For that matter, how is your quest progressing?"

For no good reason, Harry felt reluctant to answer the question candidly. He couldn't find any rational reason for this, but nevertheless gave his former Headmaster an evasive answer.

"Well enough. Hermione is doing the research, and we're all going through training to prepare us to fight Death Eaters."

"We all?"

"I have help from a few of my friends."

"Those who went with you to the Department of Mysteries?"

Again Harry felt uncomfortable with the questioning. "I do my best to keep the identity of the people working with me secret. I'm sure you can understand..."

Dumbledore's portrait returned an approving smile, and Harry noticed that the Headmaster's familiar twinkle was absent from the portrait's eyes. For some strange reason, this lessened the trust Harry felt for the old Headmaster even more.

"Can you tell me what happened to your hand?" Harry asked.

The portrait smiled his Father Christmas smile down on Harry. "I'm sure you can guess for yourself by now."

"Sir," Harry said, "since the next hand will probably be mine, I would much prefer the actual knowledge."

"It is hardly a complicated story, Harry." The portrait responded with a softer voice. "I was using Scissuros, which is a charm used in the jewellery industry in order to cut through the ring's gem. Apparently the ring was protected with a curse that I didn't manage to discover beforehand, or identify later on. It sent my charm back at me faster than I could move out of its way. I would recommend two precautions for your next try. First, put some kind of ward between you and the Horcrux before attempting to destroy it. Secondly, use a charm or a curse you can use from a little distance."

"Thank you, sir." Harry decided to leave, and was about to say his goodbyes. As he turned he remembered one more question he needed to ask the old Headmaster.

"Sir," he said softly, "maybe now you can tell me your reason for putting so much trust in Snape?"

The old man in the portrait sighed heavily. Harry was certain that he was biting his tongue in order to not correct Harry to call Snape "Professor".

"The reason has a lot to do with you," Dumbledore said. "Severus had very few friends during his school years. One of them—probably his best friend—was your mother. He and Lily were working together on potion research in their seventh year as a head start for their Master diploma. He took the Dark Mark when she announced her engagement to James and came to me, according to her advice, shortly after you were born."

"This was your reason?"

"You need to remember that I taught Professor Snape Occlumency. As you know, when you teach someone this discipline, you gain a very intimate knowledge of his mind."

Harry was shocked. This was the most ridiculous reason to put so much faith in such a potentially dangerous person, especially since that person gave every reason possible not to put trust in him. Harry felt it was lame to lecture the old man's portrait about his past mistakes. Yet he was too young and too angry to just say nothing.

"Sadly," he said, "you put your trust in the wrong man, and chose not to listen or consult with all the others, and it led you to your doom."

He took the pen out of his pocket, but before he pressed the button, he reconsidered. For reasons he could not have explained, he was reluctant to show his secrets in front of this specific portrait. He raised his head to look Dumbledore in the eye.

"I'll probably see you again soon," he said, and he turned around and left the Headmistress office, only then using the pen to get back home. Looking at the mantel clock he saw it was only half past nine at night. It was too early to go to bed, and he wanted to feel efficient. He considered his options and decided to try to learn something new. After a bit of thought, he decided to see what he could find out about Portkey creation. For a moment the thought of calling Hermione to help passed through his mind, and then he dismissed it since Hermione was bound to insist on reading the whole notebook at once, by which time it would be too late to learn anything new that night. Preferring not to be seen, he used the pen to go into the ballroom.

Harry started with his knowledge of _Apparition_. He still remembered his three Ds—destination, determination, and deliberation. _Well_, he thought, _I__'ve__ got the destination part, but determination and deliberation seem to be irrelevant here_. As always, Harry was not interested in understanding _why_ a certain magic worked in a certain way, He was much more interested in discovering _how_ to make the magic work for him.

Rereading his mother's description of the charm he discovered that the Portkey charm was a complicated one. The charm had several components which had to be interlaced correctly and clearly for the Portkey to work. There was the destination; the method of activation; number of users, which was optional but tended to make the creation of the Portkey very draining if it was to be left unlimited; the Portkey needed to be keyed through wards and the caster needed to determine if it would be a return key, and if so, the method of operating the return trip.

He decided to start with the simplest combination. "His" Portkey was to take him just across the room. No wards to cross; no return trip; no nonsense. Apparently there were two ways to charm a Portkey. One could hold all the required information in his thought, then "feed" it into the Portkey all at once, using the Portus incantation. Or one could use the incantation several times in order to add every component separately. Harry decided to use the second method to begin with. It was probably not the "cool" option, but it read easier.

Harry took out his wand and tried to charm his watch to take him to the other side of the room. Twenty minutes later he was still at his starting point, a little drained and very frustrated. He couldn't understand what was wrong. Each time he tried to charm his watch, he carefully laid every component of the charm at its appointed time, it shone blue as it should have, then it did nothing—as it shouldn't have. Harry just wanted his stupid watch to take him to the other side of the room! He tapped the watch with his wand in frustration, saying the incantation and knowing that nothing was going to happen. The next moment he found himself sitting on his ass on the other side of the room. _That__ was surprising_, he thought, getting back on his feet. _Now I want the stupid thing to take me back there_ (he knew that "there" wasn't supposed to be accurate enough for the charm) _then back here five seconds later!_ A tap with his wand, a watch glowing blue, then, "Activate" he said softly, only to find himself "there", back on his backside again. It probably took him five seconds to regain control over his shocked mind, since the very moment he was capable of a coherent thought he was hauled back across the room, by his navel, to finish in a posture he couldn't even describe in words.

_The stupid watch is starting to do as asked_, he thought. _Let's see if it will take me to bed..._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Harry was shaken into wakefulness much too early in the morning. He woke up with a start, grabbing his wand from the nightstand, only to find Dobby standing by his bed and smiling much too brightly for that hour of the day. Harry groaned and tried to hide from the coming day under his thick comforter, only to find that the comforter disappeared from his bed as soon as he managed to cover his head from the light. Not only that, but Dobby went on to open the heavy drapes over his room's large windows, inviting the bright sunlight in.

Curiously, his room's French-windows opened onto a small balcony with an oceanfront view, complete with nice oceanfront breeze and seagulls' cries. It was probably the only way for a family of purebloods to survive city life among the Muggles. Most of the wizarding homes that Harry knew about were in the country. It was quite unusual for a traditionalist wizarding family to choose to live in the city. Maybe, Harry thought, the city had caught up with the Blacks. All this was of very little interest to Harry at the time, since he just wanted to go back to sleep. He had been up late last night, exhausting himself with reading and learning new magic, and he just wanted the day to wait for a little while longer.

"Harry Potter sir needs to wake up. People is coming soon," said the ever-excited elf. "Here is Harry Potter sir's clothing."

With a heavy sigh, Harry got out of his bed. At this side of the day, the notion of performing extensive physical activities seemed almost immoral. He took a short shower, to fully wake up, and put on his training clothes. He walked downstairs and asked Winky for a cup of coffee to help chase the sleep away. Down in the hall, Hermione and Emma were already present and were talking much too animatedly for his taste. Other people drifted in, mainly through the fireplace. This morning they were wearing proper training clothes, courtesy of Hermione and Dudley's help. Most went for the shorts and T-shirt look. Some, like Susan and, curiously enough, Neville, chose the tights look. Last to arrive were Ginny and Ron, who Flooed in seconds after Tonks walked through the front door, yawning, and fell over the troll-leg umbrella stand.

"Of all the rotten furnishings in this house, you just _had_ to save this damn umbrella stand?"

Harry was laughing so hard that he fell over the stand too. "Of all the horrible things in this place, that umbrella stand was the most 'innocent' evil item I could keep, to remind myself of the good old days," he said, wiping his eyes.

He almost broke down in laughter again when he saw the mock-evil look Tonks sent his way.

"Are we ready to go, or we are waiting for someone else?"

"We can go, Mum," said Hermione, watching Dudley enter the hall while rubbing his eyes.

"Is this a regular time of the day for your kind?"

"Do you think we're some kind of freaks?" asked Ron, earning an angry look from Harry and an apologetic one from Dudley himself.

"Cheers, mate." Harry took a look at Ron, then at Dudley, who looked even more apologetic, and turned to talk with Su Li, trying to lift his mood.

"What did I say?" Ron asked Hermione in a whisper, earning himself a mere shake of her head as a response.

"We're mostly sane people," Bill said in an effort to defuse the situation that Ron had absentmindedly created. "This ludicrous hour was chosen by that pink-haired monster in the corner by the hearth."

"Thank you very much, dear, now can we go running? Otherwise you'll all be training until midnight tonight."

"Off to the park, then!"

"Are we running in the same park we used yesterday?"

"Sure, Susan, why not? It's got excellent facilities."

"Actually, Emma, I'm not sure it's wise to go running in the same place every day."

Harry considered it, but Ron was the first to respond. "That's right, you know. When you repeat an action, you become predictable to the adversary." He looked around, noting that everyone was looking at him. "What?" he protested. "It's just like chess. You'll never catch me using the same opening twice in a row."

"Ron is absolutely right. We should use a different place for training every day."

"Finding new facilities is not a problem," said Emma. "The park near our place..." She trailed off for a moment. "Near the place where our house used to be," she went on, "has a decent running track and I'm sure there are many more like it. I just don't know how to get there without wasting time."

Harry looked around, took one of the hearth tools, and tried to concentrate. He saw in his mind the living room at 4 Privet Drive; he thought about the number of people in their group, then tapped it with his wand, watching it glow blue. "Right, guys—touch this," he said. He took special care to meet neither Hermione's glare nor Tonks's questioning look. He tapped the tool with his wand and—nothing happened. "Just a moment," he said. "I just want the damn poker to take us to Surrey!" Once again it glowed blue, then he found himself sitting on the floor in the Dursleys' living room, looking up at Hermione.

"We have training to do," he said, and hurried to his feet and led them to the park nearby.

The physical training went faster that day. They all knew the drill and, with Tonks there breathing down their necks, they put better effort into it. Emma used her time to go around and improve their performance. Forty-five minutes later they were all walking briskly back to Privet Drive for their Portkey back to Grimmauld Place. Tonks left directly for the Ministry building, but not before giving Harry a look that clearly said, "You'd better have a good explanation for me about these Portkeys tomorrow." It took Harry four tries to create a functioning Portkey, then they were all home.

"Grab a bite and some tea in the kitchen, then start your day's training," he called after the retreating backs of his friends. Then he was left alone in the entry hall, with only Hermione staring at him with her special look that meant there was no escape for him from giving her a very good explanation.

"Er, aren't you hungry?" he asked with a guilty grin.

"Stop stalling and tell me where—sorry, _when_ did you learn to make a Portkey?"

"So much for learning the thing; I'm obviously not good at it at all..."

"Harry!"

He was clearly in the danger zone, so Harry decided to start with the truth. "Yesterday evening. Actually, late night is more accurate."

"Who taught you?" Hermione was very interested regarding the identity of his instructor and the look in her eyes didn't pledge well for said teacher.

"No one," Harry quickly reassured her. "I learned it by myself. That's probably the reason I can't do it right."

"Where did you find the instructions?" she asked. "I've been looking for a book with instructions about Portkey charming for three years now. Ever since the Triwizard Cup was turned into one. Think about it—it could have been so simple to charm a Portkey into Sirius's room and give him one to escape with before returning to the hospital ward at the end of third year, without the danger of using the Time-Turner."

"Yes," Harry said solemnly. "Dumbledore could have made it for us just as easily."

"That's totally beside the point. Where did you find the information?"

"In my mother's notebook."

"And _you_ learned how to charm _Portkeys_, yesterday, without **me**?"

Hermione was now in the mood that usually led her to use a very obscure and uncomfortable jinx on the person who was irritating her, and Harry was becoming more and more concerned for his well-being. "Hermione! It wasn't like that at all. Firstly, you weren't here. You went to Luna's to put her place under the Fidelius. By the way, how did it go?"

"**Don't** change the subject!"

"Then there's much more in it than just Portkey creation. I knew that if I called you, you wouldn't have left the notebook before reading through it all, and then we wouldn't have had enough time left to actually learn anything."

That wasn't the safe thing to say. "So you _hid_ it from me?"

"Hermione, this is not you talking," Harry said softly. "I went to Godric's Hollow to read my mother's notebook. You weren't there, I didn't know what was in it, and I wanted to read it by myself for the first time. Then, well, it was already late and I just wanted to try something practical, to feel that I'd had a productive evening..."

That made Hermione feel uncomfortable, and she relented. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "It's just that I feel lonely lately, and it made me feel like I was unnecessary. I can't even explain it to myself. I had no reason to be angry with you. I'm so sorry. I'll let you be."

She turned around to go up the stairs but was stopped by Harry's hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry about. We're all under pressure and you got upset. It's going to happen a lot to us all. Let's meet after the morning's training and read it over together. Right?"

She gave him a small smile as they climbed the stairs together to the training room.

Training day was more of the same. Marks were improving all across. They were moving from sparks to small jinxes as instructed. Harry noticed no difference at all but the change from the red colour of his sparks to the light blue of the jelly-leg jinx he was using. To his great satisfaction, his left-hand numbers were improving, slowly but steadily. He decided to put more emphasis on accuracy. After an hour and a half of that drill, he managed a 42/23, which was better, in his eyes, than the consistent low 30s he'd managed the day before.

Around eleven in the morning they stopped for a short break. Over sandwiches and juice, Harry was surprised to find some of his friends a bit spent from the morning drills. What surprised Harry the most was the diversity—while he Hermione and Neville were almost as fresh as when they'd started, Ron, Su, and the twins, on the other hand, were quite winded. Half an hour later they went on for the more physical part of their morning training.

Three hours later Harry saw very little progress. He tried to use his left hand with some of the drills with moving targets, which made his scores even lower. By the end of the morning's training he was as winded as he had been the day before, and he still had some of the best scores in the group. Ron and the twins barely made it through the more physical drills. They would have to ask Tonks about it the next day.

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"Do you have plans for the afternoon?"

"Probably go to the castle, or study here—why?"

"I was thinking I could go over the notebook with you and Neville; maybe Ron too, since it contains tactical information. We can do some studying too."

"So, study group?"

As expected, Hermione insisted on going through the whole notebook before she would agree to concentrate on any specifics.

"With every page I read I get more and more impressed with Lily and Frank. They always tell us how wonderful your father was," she said, turning to Harry, "but your mother was just amazing!"

Harry gave a very sad smile. "So I've heard lately."

The notebook was nothing if not thorough and to the point. It covered a calculated range of knowledge needed to fight and win. There was no theory there, just know-how with footnoted references to a short list of textbooks for further understanding, all of which, as Harry could testify, were located on a small shelf in the gatehouse library. Explanations were clear and linear, together with the necessary illustrations where needed. It was quite clear to Harry and Hermione that whoever written it had access to Muggle guides, since it contained nothing of the chaos and confusion often found in magical guides.

The list contained three types of shields. One was a strengthened version of the regular Protego; the second was a localized conjured metallic shield, intended to stop both very potent curses and physical attacks. "I think I've seen Voldemort use this shield in the Ministry, while fighting Dumbledore," Harry said, ignoring Neville's gasp of horror. "The git could have killed him back then, but instead he was trying to catch him alive," he added darkly. The third shield was a wide-area shield. It was a bit stronger than the first one and was intended to be used to protect a location or a small group of people. It had few variations to be used ether in open space, between walls, or as a sphere around one person. It looked to be very potent, but the guide indicated that it took a lot of raw power to be used properly, and very few witches or wizards were capable of that level of power.

The transportation section contained explanations about Apparation and Portkey creation. Then it mentioned "special equipment" stored in Gringotts vault No. 007. "Certainly Muggle-born," remarked Hermione dryly, snickering silently.

"Without a doubt—Granger."

"Hermione Granger," she added, smiling broadly.

"Hein?" was all Neville was capable of.

"Hey, Harry, when I went out with Ron the other night, I saw that there was a new Bond out. Why don't we all go together tonight?"

"New Bond! Who's playing?"

"I don't know, I think he's a new one."

"Shame, I liked Roger Moore."

"Roger Moore?! It's a well known fact that the best Bond is one Sir Sean Connery."

"Yes, sure he's a better actor—a much better actor—I'll give you that, but Bond is such a shallow character. I still prefer Roger Moore. He drinks his martini better."

All this while Neville was watching them and trying to understand what they were talking about and what was so funny.

"You want to take seven to nine pureblood wizards to the cinema, for the first time, all at once?"

"Why not? We'll take my parents and Dudley with us and be sure to explain everything to them in advance."

"Sure, why not. Now can we go back to the notebook, luv?"

The notebook stated that the said vault contained ten work-class brooms and three flying carpets to be used as transportation and for air support. Neville had no idea what "air support" was.

The contents of the vault were another nice surprise. Other than the brooms and the carpets, it contained four dragon-hide amour suits, three Invisibility Cloaks, a Master grade potion lab, and two pairs of charmed glasses. "They're probably like Moody's eye," remarked Neville. Hermione nodded and continued to read. Ten hit-wizard grade concealment and amour suits, a variety of daggers, and two priceless Time-Turners.

"Wow!" remarked Neville. "This is like Auror paradise."

"Sure sounds like it. We'll need to check it out when we visit Gringotts later this week."

And Hermione read on. The ward page held the description of anti-Apparation and Portkey wards together with basic perimeter and proximity wards and a few locking charms of various complexities.

The medical chapter contained instructions for several basic healing charms to heal wounds, mend bones, stop bleeding, put people under medical stasis, and the like. The end of that chapter referred them to the potion chapter for further reference.

"It gives instructions on being a field medic, not a Healer."

"What's a 'field medic'?"

"It's a Muggle term for a soldier whose task is to keep the wounded among his fellow soldiers alive and give them basic medical treatment until a real Healer can be reached." Neville nodded in understanding.

The potion part contained recipes and instructions for the preparation of basic healing concoctions like blood-replenishing, pain-relieving, Skele-Gro, and sleeping draughts, together with instructions regarding the use of these potions and remarks about their side effects. The non-healing potions contained an assortment of recipes for the likes of two truth potions, including Veritaserum; Felix Felicis, Polyjuice, et cetera.

"This is so complicated," remarked Neville as he skimmed the Polyjuice recipe and instructions. "This is way over NEWT level. We'll never be able to make it, look—it takes a full month to brew!"

Hermione and Harry did their best not to laugh. They were doing a good job of it, letting only mute snickering sounds out. Then they made the mistake of looking at each other and broke down.

"What?"

"You should always pay attention and make sure you put a hair from Pansy in the potion instead of Pansy's cat..."

This was very little in the way of explanation, from Neville's point of view, but Hermione went on and did her best imitation of a Weasley blush.

"Do you remember the week Hermione spent in the hospital wing during our second year? Well, apart from the month she spent there Petrified later that year..."

Neville nodded, though not finding this much of an explanation at all.

"Well, Hermione here decided that Draco knew who the heir of Slytherin was and that we needed to get that information out of him. So Saint Granger, dear, broke almost every school rule and brewed Polyjuice for us to use—in Myrtle's broken bathroom on the second floor, mind you. We used it to impersonate Crabbe and Goyle and discovered that Draco knew nothing about the subject. Hermione used it, to great effect, to impersonate Pansy's cat..."

This was almost too much of an explanation for Neville. "You brewed this—_thing_," he said, at a loss for other words, "during your **second year**?"

Hermione nodded and bowed her head both in embarrassment and pride.

"Blimey!"

"Back to work," remarked Hermione, and went back to the notebook. They were up to what was apparently the most important part of it: curses and spells. To their surprise, this part was quite short and focused. There was the Reducto curse, which was the basic curse in Lily and Frank's fighting doctrine. "If you can hit your enemy with a well placed Reducto, you've done your job," it said. The full list included two fire curses: the regular Incendio and one that sent balls of fire in various sizes. There were two types of cutting curses, one of which was very effective since it was colourless, a piercing curse, an interesting curse that disintegrated stone and sent it around as sharp shrapnel, and one that conjured metal arrows and banished them toward the opponent. This was the grand total of the attack spells. The notebook elaborated and said that most wizards tend to be over-crafty with their Spellwork. It was probably nice in an official duel, but in a real fight one should hit his opponent with a straight destructive curse, hit him again to make sure he didn't rejoin the fight, and move on. A few well-chosen curses would be enough to do so.

The auxiliary spells included a smoke spell, Disillusionment Charm, a couple of binding charms, including one Auror-grade charm which conjured a full set of hand- and foot-cuffs which were password protected and prevented the bound person from performing any type of magic, memory charms, silencing charms, a few detection spells, and that was it.

"This actually looks to be workable after just a short period of training."

Neville looked at Harry and nodded. "We should probably schedule a couple of hours every afternoon to start learning these," he suggested.

"One hour of physical training, six or seven hours of magical training. Two to three hours of learning, study and research, meals and transportation, not to mention an occasional fight with Death Eaters and such—we won't have time to breathe, never mind doing something proactive like sleeping."

"We can always make more time."

Hermione looked very sceptically at them. "I don't think it's such a good idea," she said. "I tried to do this myself during our third year, and for once Ron was right about me being 'mental'. Even I couldn't study effectively, as vain as it sounds. Then, especially during a war, there's always the risk of doing something stupid and creating a timeline paradox."

"Back then, what did you do wrong?"

"I don't really know. I used the Time-Turner to the best of my ability, but even using it just to get to classes was putting too much pressure on me. I was always anxious and so tired, and then I was so afraid. I was afraid of making a mistake, of letting someone see me, of you and Ron finding out..."

"I remember you that year. I was almost afraid to come near you. Then again, back then I was afraid of my own shadow, too."

"You weren't as afraid as Malfoy, though."

"Is this another of your private jokes?" Neville asked, looking at Hermione who was hiding her face with her hands and fighting her laughter without much success.

"Do you remember Buckbeak, the Hippogriff that Harry rode our third year? Well, to heal his wounded pride, Draco arranged for Buckbeak to be executed. When the executioner came to Hogwarts, Draco was so smug and full of himself and I was quite tense, tired, and anxious. So when he bragged about how he'd got Buckbeak's execution arranged, I stopped thinking and just hit him in the face."

"You didn't!"

"She sure did. Draco didn't dare go anywhere near her for the rest of that year."

"My hero!"

Hermione put her hand to her chest and bowed deeply with a flourishing gesture of her other hand.

"Did you take enough time to sleep?" came Luna's voice from the door.

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_This is going to be very awkward_, Kleio Rickard thought to herself. _I need to find Kingsley_.

All this time, the "cleanup" operation was continuing in the Ministry. There were no more high-profile arrests. The first week of investigations "took care" of all the highly positioned Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters. As they moved down the ranks of the Ministry, fewer and fewer arrests were made, though some Ministry employees decided to quit or just went on an extended lunch break, away from the Ministry building, and never returned. The three marked Aurors infuriated Kleio the most. One of them was even on her own team. She'd trained Ted from the day he left Hogwarts and entered the Auror academy. He'd been under her command for almost ten years now, and she truly trusted him. Hell, the sod was in charge of the security on Amelia's house. Sometimes she just hated being on the side of the law. Since the way the investigations had been carried out was quite illegal, any evidence derived therefrom was inadmissible. All they could do was to arrest marked Death Eaters for the relatively minor offence of _being_ marked Death Eaters, and flush out active sympathizers. She herself had to send actual murderers back to the streets and could only try to keep an eye on them for further offences that would justify their arrest. The other side, she knew, didn't pay any attention to the "due process of the law". They just killed whoever stood in their way. Well, right now she was just a little bit jealous. At least they could follow the Minister's orders to the letter—they took care to be well backed up while making arrests, and gave the target every opportunity to 'resist'.

"A moment?" she asked, knocking softly on Kingsley's open door.

He waved her in and watched wearily as she closed and sealed the door behind her and then placed a silencing charm on the room. With most other people he would have already taken out his wand and sent a few curses her way. It wasn't that he didn't like or trust his colleague; it was just that sometimes old Moody was right—one could never knew who his enemies might be, and you couldn't be too careful. They all had very clear orders to avoid any suspicious acts, and clearer orders regarding the action to be taken in case someone broke the former orders.

Kleio was another story, since she had taken the oath with him and would lose her magic before being able to betray it, ether willingly or not. Magical oaths were dangerous, but safe. And they provided protection even from means like the Imperius curse, since the oath would break the curse, albeit causing a lot of pain in doing so, before harming one's magic.

"I was investigating the staff of the Minister's office today and came up with two problems."

Kingsley nodded to her to go on.

"One 'problem' is a certain Mrs. Umbridge. She isn't marked as a Death Eater but is supporting many activities and initiatives that she knows were initiated by You-Know-Who. The other problem is with young Mr. Weasley. He's neither a Death Eater nor a supporter, but he has developed such a hatred toward Mr. Potter that he's become a security risk. More than a few of our arrests testify that he is a very good and easily manipulated source of information."

"And the problem?"

"Well, Umbridge might be an effective tool to feed disinformation to You-Know-Who, if treated right. There are two main problems with it: the first is that it's not my decision to make. The other is that the woman has many sources of information of her own. It won't be that easy to manipulate the information she holds, and she'll pose a security risk the whole time."

"And young Weasley?"

"Well, his father is a Ministry employee, and though not the most brilliant or ambitious of them, I'm quite fond of the man. I understand that you're friendly with him. Would you like to talk with him before we throw his kid out of the building?"

"Is he an immediate risk?"

"I don't think so, but now that we've dried up You-know-Who's sources in the Ministry, I'm afraid he'll be approached very soon."

"Let me think about the Weasley boy for a couple of days. For now, let's talk with Gawain and the Minister regarding the Umbridge issue."

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"It was hilarious!"

Harry had never heard Ron so enthusiastic that early in the morning. Actually, until two days ago, he hadn't see his friend awake that early ever. Not even on Christmas Day.

"Did you see how he drove in that big car and broke the whole city? These Muggles are mental!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged amused looks with each other.

"It wasn't a car. It was a tank. It's a battlefield vehicle."

"You could have enjoyed your evening with Hermione as much, probably much more, if only you'd listened to her instructions instead of going bonkers on her," his sister said reproachfully, cooling his enthusiasm down.

It was two nights after their outing into the Muggle world, and Ron was still as exited as he had been at the time. In effect, it was as much an effort as it was fun, and fun it had been. The first effort was to persuade the whole bunch to join in the expedition. Obviously, Ron was very reluctant. His last experience with the Muggle world had not been encouraging, to say the least. Some of the others just couldn't understand what it was all about. Then they had to go through clothes control.

This morning they took a Portkey to Hermione's old neighbourhood to do their morning training. Their little late-night study group was quite effective, and by now all four of them were capable of charming a Portkey whenever they needed one. Today's afternoon lesson would be teaching it to their friends; Apparation would follow. Training was getting both easier and more difficult from morning to morning. Harry felt like his body was growing accustomed to the physical effort, but then he was required to put forth more and more effort every session. While making his laps around the track he let his mind loose again.

Every time he was confronted with what magical folks regarded as Muggle clothing, he was concerned for their mental stability. Than again, he thought, most wizards he knew were a little round the twist. That, and the fact that he was starting to believe that most wizards were colour-blind, too.

_"Do you truly believe these clothes are something a sane person would wear?" he asked, conjuring a large mirror in front of Ron and Neville. Happily, the twins did a lot better, but they tended to err on the colourful side, a fact that would make them feel at home at some gay bars, at least clothes-wise. _

_Neville just shrugged at the question. "This is my best Muggle suit. Gran bought it for me a year ago."_

_"And_ _you think it looks reasonable to wear these?"_

_"What do I know about Muggles?"_

_"Well, I thought you knew about common sense." Harry shook his head in desperation. _

_A short Portkey trip to Privet Drive and a visit to a local shop equipped them with suitable outfits._

_At least the girls have better fashion sense_, he thought as he held Ron's feet while his friend did his sit-ups. The "behavioural" part was much more complicated. Learning from her previous experience, Hermione instructed her friends to save their remarks for themselves, at least until such time as no Muggle would be able to hear them, and if they just had to ask something, address Harry, Dudley, or herself—**quietly**.

"Thanks for the other day," Ron whispered to Harry as they swapped places. Mindful of Hermione's recent "speech", Harry dragged his friend to the side.

_"I want us all to have fun tonight. Please just give it a chance."_

_Ron nodded his head, but Harry wasn't so sure yet._

_"Ron," he said, "just stick with me and keep your remarks in a low tone." Ron nodded again, and Harry went on. "You should keep an open mind. The Muggle world is very different, but as far as recreation goes they're doing much better than wizards do."_

"You're welcome," he said now.

Actually, it went quite well—no, make that very well—for a large bunch of pureblood wizards, cavorting in the regular world, in public, for the first time in their life. The movie was perfect for the occasion. It had enough action to attract the guys, was funny enough to please the girls, and had enough gadgets to amaze all wizards.

_"You guys can do __**that**__ without magic?" he heard an amazed Fred asking Dudley during one of the more impressive action scenes. Dudley looked embarrassed. _

_"Maybe a few people can do these things with the proper equipment, but it's a movie—it's mostly special effects." This wasn't much of an explanation for George and Fred. "Equipment? Special effects?"_

_"Later," Hermione hissed from the row behind them to shush them._

A short while later they headed back to Grimmauld Place for their magical training of the day. The last two days expanded the gaps between their capabilities. Harry, Hermione, and Neville took the move into small jinxes in stride and were making progress all the time. The friendly competition between Luna and Ginny did wonders for the two of them after a very short while. The progress Neville had shown during these few training sessions was nothing short of amazing. On the other hand, Ron and the twins were still struggling. Their aim was gradually getting better, and their general endurance was improving, but they just couldn't sustain the flow of magic for as long as the others. Ron especially was getting quite frustrated by that. They asked Tonks for advice, but all she said was that it was too early for any kind of concern.

Today was a short day, since Susan, Neville, and Harry were expected at Gringotts at one in the afternoon.

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"What are we doing here?"

"We're not so sure. When Harry and I visited Gringotts last week, the trust manager—Ironblaze—asked us to schedule this meeting with him and to bring you over in order to receive more information from him. He insisted that this information was to be given only to the three of us together. By the way, Harry, how did you know that Neville was the third party of this meeting?"

"I made an educated guess. In my parents' cottage I found a letter from my mother addressed to me. In the letter there was a list of people I can trust completely. Apparently they were working behind Dumbledore's back. Since I inherited the Black fortune, the only names on the list with any relevance to Gringotts were the Boneses and Longbottoms."

Once again, they sat in the waiting room until Ironblaze was ready to meet with them. The tea was wonderful and the scones soft and warm. The whole place gave them the feeling of being preferred customers. They were going over their respective account summary together, trying to guess what this meeting was all about, when the wide doors were opened and two Goblins walked in accompanied by a tall young man who looked as if he'd come right out of London's business district. He was wearing a dark pinstriped suit with a dark blue shirt and a quality tie, and carried a leather briefcase.

"He looks different from the man in the moo-vee," whispered Neville in Harry's ear, while Susan looked at the man in a very appreciative way. Harry looked between the foreign man and his friends with a very confused expression, while the young man raised an eyebrow and then smiled back at Susan, who blushed lightly.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed finally as understanding dawned. "Not every man in a suit carrying a briefcase is a secret agent, you know, though they do call this kind of bag a 'James Bond case'. We took them to the cinema for the first time a couple of days ago," he explained to the man. "We went to the new Bond movie."

The man smiled brightly. "Well, I'm Howard," he said. "Bradley Howard," he added amusingly, á la James Bond, and handed his card to Susan, who blushed even more and tried to hide behind Harry's back. "Sadly, I'm no secret agent, just an investment banker," he added, still smiling.

"And this is the head of Gringotts' investment department, Hardark. I'm sure their relevance will be clear to you in a few moments. Until then—time is gold," he said, guiding the group of people and Goblins to the large conference table at the back of the room.

"Fifteen years ago, a young Muggle-born woman entered this branch of our bank and requested to meet the president of the bank. Obviously her request was not granted, and she met with me instead. Back than, I was a newly appointed deputy director of the trust department, eager to make my mark on the bank's policy, and, naturally, earn a lot of gold."

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It was a lovely London day, and Uma was sitting out in the sun, enjoying her morning tea. People all around her were quite indifferent to her existence at the place, which was exactly the way she wanted it. Every now and then someone, usually a young man, noticed the young woman in the crowd of men and women and gazed at her, mesmerized, for a long moment, as if trying to understand the co-existence of her and the common world. These days, this was almost all the attention she received or needed in order to live her quiet and simple life. There were other days, of course, but these had been buried deep in her past and abandoned, though never forgotten. She was quite content to sit in the sun and enjoy her time, consuming culture and science. Science was actually a very interesting thing. It was the power of understanding, as opposed to the personal power most people seemed to seek. For her amusement she meddled, from time to time, with the lives of her few acquaintances, mostly regarding their love lives. She tried a few boxing shows, but they just weren't to her taste. These men were fighting politely, risking too little for too big a prize. Motorcycle races were quite fun, though.

On this particular morning Uma was to meet with one of her very few friends, here in London. She could still remember the first time she'd met with young Dora Tonks. The girl—she was only seventeen back then—was sitting at the bar in a very popular London pub and was virtually waving men away. Her manga blue hair and cheerful exposition were irresistible. Uma couldn't remember meeting anyone so alive for a very long time. Nymphadora was the girl's name. It took Uma three long hours and a **lot** of alcohol to find that out, not that she could blame the girl for hiding it. What was it with parents and mythological names? Most of these names were quite ridiculous even back in the days when they were freshly coined. Now they were just obsolete. Take poor Artemis, for example—Uma would have been glad to turn from active goddess into myth with a name like that. Now, the Egypt goddesses had cool names. What most people didn't realise, though, was that there was no reason to fight one's name. One could replace it just as easily.

"Blonde? What happened to acid green or shocking pink?"

"Oh hush, you—and blondes _do_ have more fun, mind you."

Uma took a long look at her friend, noticing her subdued posture and shadowed face. She hadn't seen her friend so down since the days when Dora discovered just how hard the military-like training was that she'd chosen to take, right out of school.

"What happened, dear?"

"It's been a couple of very bad weeks," Dora answered quietly. "I've lost a few people I held dear, and my old school headmaster was killed too."

They paid the tab and went for a stroll in the nearby park.

"Ever since my cousin died last year, things have just become worse and worse. War has started, and almost everyone involved is dear to me. I help to train a group of volunteers, and just the other day I received a promotion; now I have a squad of new recruits that I need to train for this war, and all I see in my sleep is these people dying because I didn't do my work well and they weren't ready. Then, in the morning, I look in the mirror and know that I'm not ready either..."

Uma listened silently. Often, she knew, people just needed a friend to talk to, not one to give advice.

"Then there's this guy I know; he's supposed to lead us in this war, and he's only seventeen. He isn't ready to be a leader—and worse, old England isn't ready to let him lead."

Tonks stopped walking and looked around at the playground. "I shouldn't be telling you all this."

"You sound like you like the boy."

"I do. I love him, like most everyone who truly knows him."

"Then he has a good fighting chance. Love is a strong source of power, you know."

"So said my old headmaster."

"He was a wise man, then. Did you know that back in the early days the most powerful gods of war were also gods of love?"

Tonks looked sceptical. "I'm talking about real war, not old mythology."

"Mostly goddesses," Uma smiled, ignoring the last statement. It was a long moment before she spoke again. "Dora," she said softly, "what war are you talking about? England hasn't been a part of a major conflict since the Gulf. Are you talking about northern Ireland?"

"Not any war that the public knows about, though I'm very much afraid that this war isn't going to be hidden for much longer."

Tonks took a shortish stick out of her pocket and looked at her friend pensively, almost sorrowfully. Then she pointed the stick at her friend and said "_Obliviate_," in a whisper. She watched as her friend's eyes lost their focus for a short moment. "Uma," she said, "I think I'm in need of some alcohol."

"Me too, dear. I feel like I've been daydreaming for the last half-hour. There's a very nice bar with young, rich customers near the southern gate. Lead the way."

She watched her friend affectionately before starting after her. "Tell me," she added, "how are you and your old wolf-man coming?"

For the first time that day, a wide, genuine smile came to Tonks's face. "Do I have news for you!"

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"Apparently, this young Muggle-born had the money of three respectable families, one of which was extremely wealthy, to back her up. That was sure to catch my attention. Even more surprising was the fact that this young woman had refreshing ideas about wizard-Goblin relations, fighting wars against evil Dark Lords, and, most importantly, making huge profits.

"You see, wizarding money is old money—very, very old. Most of it is gold, gathered over thousands of years of digging and harvesting, then concentrated into the hands of a few old and traditionalist families. In reality, a wizarding family can live with almost no money at all. Other than pure luxuries, all other necessities can be easily supplied by magical means. The wizarding economy is very slow, too. With only about 35,000 magical beings in the whole of England, only a little more than half of them wizards and witches, commerce is very limited. Food, clothing, some books, and potion supplies—in that respect, money in a magical bank is just that—safe. It earns very little in terms of interest. Well, Ms. Evans had some very interesting ideas about investments; bold ideas, and the money to carry these ideas out. In addition, she had very interesting ideas regarding the way Goblins should handle their relations with wizards.

"Ever since non-human races went into hiding, we've mostly been tolerated by human wizards, who treat us as a necessary evil at best. Contempt and alienation have led to fear. If you'll follow the history of wizard-Goblin relations—the real history, not what you're taught at Hogwarts—you'll notice that almost every wizard-Goblin war was preceded by internal wizarding conflict. The fact that Goblins are trusted with wizards' money made us necessary and helped postpone the next conflict. The main reason we didn't have to fight wizards during the early '40s was that wizards had hard enough work to keep hidden from non-magical humans without the complication of openly fighting a nonhuman race. You, Harry, were the only one who prevented the fight on 1981.

"Your mother gave me a wonderful idea, a way to make our banking even more desirable and necessary for wizards, while gaining leverage over certain unfavourable wizarding families."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"_Spell_, _Spell_;" a peek around the corner; roll to the centre of the range; "_spell_," roll out looking for cover; "_spell_" from above the cover; move wand to left hand; "_spell_" from below; back to the right hand; drop to the floor; two well-aimed spells to the target; a run across the range; "_spell_," a shield and another spell just before disappearing behind the cover on the other side.

It had been going on for half an hour now, and Harry was covered with sweat and panting heavily. It was the end of the morning training. He was using a tripping jinx today, just for variety's sake. Tonks was true to her word and had charmed the targets to shoot small stinging jinxes back at them this morning. Apparently that was an excellent incentive and they all had tried their best, albeit after a few yelps of pain. It was as strenuous a drill as ever, and one by one his friends had fallen out, too exhausted to keep on. He took a moment to catch his breath and looked around the training room. As usual, the young Weasley boys were the first to give in. They sat in the corner looking around and recovering from the strain. Susan and Su were next to give in to their tired bodies and seemingly deflated magical reserves. In their mostly regular corner Ginny and Luna were still involved in their usual game of who-will-give-up-first. Nether of them had given up yet, though they were both slowing down considerably and showing exactly how tired they both were. Next to them Remus and Bill were sweating and panting but showed obvious physical resilience and respectable magical durability. A red radiance of magic splashed onto Harry's shield. Looking to the other side, he saw Tonks scowling at him, her face leathery red and boasting small pointy horns on her forehead. He flashed her a cheeky face but went back to his drill.

"_Spell_," over the shelter; roll; two aimed spells; shield; run for cover...

Ever since he'd managed to learn the sphere-like shield from his mother's notebook, he was trying to keep it up for as long as there was a potential danger. Harry quickly discovered that Tonks was a clear and present danger, at least for as long as they were in the training room or during any other kind of training. In her favor, Harry had to admit that she was training harder than the rest of them combined. He stole a glance at her while hiding behind his shelter. She was formidable—all her usual clumsiness was gone and had been replaced with quick, graceful, and precise movements, and some kind of indescribable purposefulness radiated from her. She was sweating slightly, but otherwise moved with an ease and vitality he couldn't find in himself.

Back to the drill. "S_pell_," roll out of cover, two aimed spells (yay, right on target!), run for cover in between rays of magic—painful magic at that. Back behind the shelter he fired a stream of magic at the target to overwhelm it and buy himself a few seconds of no retaliating fire. _This target is certainly dead now_, came the thought. Once again he peeked at the target, fired two aimed spells at it, and then ran out to the other side. _This is more about endurance than winning. It's about being accurate and fast repeatedly and quickly, without getting hit, and for a long while_.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Neville crumple in exhaustion right after getting hit with a stinging jinx from his target. Out of all his friends, Neville had made the most noticeable progress. At the end of the last school year Neville had been a feeble and lanky boy, with noticeable willpower but very little in the way of physical endurance or magical efficiency. Now Harry was starting to see in his friend glimpses of the man he just might become, or maybe his potential as Voldemort's equal. Neville still had a very long road ahead of him, improving his physical condition—they all had—but his magic never faltered. Looking at Neville as he sent long rays of bright green magic at his target, with steady hand and a clear mind, made Harry angry at Neville's grandmother and at himself. For years Mrs. Longbottom had kept Neville's magic and personality bottled up and stoppered. **Fifteen years!**

"_How wonderful your father was, how brave, how magical. I just hope you can possibly make him proud. Practically a Squib. It's a miracle they let you in Hogwarts. Here, use your father's wand. It's a good wand—strong!'_

Bollocks! He should have known, and he should have paid Neville much more attention during their first years at school. He should probably have broken that damn wand right on. He knew from Ron just how much of a hindrance a mismatched wand was to one's magic. Maybe Snape was right—his head _was_ too inflated with his fame to clearly see his friends. And that greasy slime was no help—always towering over Neville, insulting him, hurting whatever confidence he had.

Neville gave Harry a weak smile as he tried to catch his breath, and Harry went on with the drill: "S_pell_," roll, "_spell, spell_," run for cover, "_spell_," a peek, aimed spell, a run...

In another part of the room Hermione and Fleur were involved in a friendly competition. Fleur was clearly in better physical shape than Hermione. On the other hand, Hermione could sustain continuous magic better. After the training sessions she remarked that at that level of magic, she felt she could go on forever. To be fair, both Fleur and Hermione looked better than Harry in that last drill of the day. His scores were just marginally better, only due to his better aim, though they all hindered their scores in that drill by using their left hand from time to time. Most of them were actually getting much better with the use of their weaker hand for magic. Sure, Harry felt awkward with it, and was certainly slower and less accurate, but after the initial shock of the idea of doing this he wasn't hopeless any more, and from the scores he saw around, neither were most of his friends.

A peek over the shelter, "S_pell_' from below, run firing spells, crouch behind the other shelter and send a stream of magic into the target, moving his wand hand from the bottom of the shelter and around to its top, moving the wand from his left hand to his right, without breaking the stream of magic flowing.

"Did you see that?"

"Yep, and for the first time in my life, too."

"I didn't know you could arc magic."

Remus and Tonks look at Bill, who joined them, and shook their heads.

"Well, you just can't. Magic flows in a straight line. The actual ray of the magic stream might be a little curved, but there must be a clear straight line between the wand point and the target, preferably the hand, the wand, _and_ the target."

"Thanks for the lesson, Remy. I thought I'd noticed something else, too. I'm going to try this drill tomorrow with moving targets."

"Talking about this, I was monitoring the targets for power draining during training. At some point he almost overwhelmed the target with magic."

"Aren't the targets draining magic from the room?"

"Yep. I placed drainage runs all around the room, in all bedrooms, and in the kitchen. They're feeding this room and adding to the wards as needed."

Remus stopped Bill before he could move completely into lecturing mode. "He overpowered all this magic with a tickling jinx?"

"And did you notice his shield?" Tonks added. "At one point he stopped his drill for a while to look around. I tried stinging him, but he had a sphere shield on him. I need all my concentration just to conjure one, and I can't hold it for more than five minutes or so. Harry seems to be holding the shield all the time."

"Sphere shield?"

"It's a very advance shield. We don't even learn that one at the academy, mostly because most of the trainees can't handle it. I was taught it privately a few years after I left the academy by one of the senior instructors. I can't even guess how he found out about it, never mind actually learning to conjure it so efficiently."

"Hey guys, talking about anything interesting?"

Bill turned to find his girlfriend curling under his arm. "Actually, yes. Fleur just got word from home about her wand-maker relative in Bulgaria. Her mother says he'll agree to sell us general use wands, if we can cover the cost. Unofficial wands are quite expensive and come in for about a ton a wand."

"Ask for about thirty wands," said Neville, who was passing by. "I'll get you the money later in the evening."

"Neville, we can't accept so much money from you."

"It's okay. We have enough money for the war effort stored in Gringotts. I'll just have to go there, or see if Sus has the time," he said, and walked confidently down the stairs and into the kitchen, with all eyes in the room following him.

"Well, that's a new Neville..."

"New and improved!"

There were nods all around.

"Actually," Remus turned the conversation back on its tracks, "I managed to find the old wand-maker werewolf I was telling you about. Sadly, he's too old and much too frail to work any more. He hasn't had money or a source of Wolfsbane potion for the last decade or so, and his body is all broken from the transformations."

The silence was palpable, and Tonks looked like she was about to break into tears.

"Hey," Remus said softly, rubbing her back. "I'm not in such bad shape, and I get enough potion to get by. It'll be fine, love. Just fine."

"I'll order the wands," whispered Fleur, and she dragged Bill out of the room, feeling extremely out of place.

Back in the training room, Remus was left alone with his love. He turned and held his now crying girlfriend in his arms. "You knew this was inevitable," he said softly. "This is exactly the reason I didn't think you should waste your life with me."

"You stupid wolf," she sobbed into his chest. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere. You just can't expect me to be happy about this horrible disease destroying your mind and body."

"I don't expect anything. I'm still in awe that you give me any kind of attention at all."

"You stupid, stupid man!"

Remus sighed heavily.

"What is it, love?"

Still he said nothing.

"Remy?"

He sighed again. "It's just that without Snape and Dumbledore I have no source of Wolfsbane potion any more. It's impossibly complicated to brew and extremely expensive to source the ingredients. Over the last couple of years I've grown dependent on it. I have enough in store for a couple of months longer, but I'm afraid of what will come then..."

"Surely we can find a solution. Did you talk with Harry?"

"I can't ask him. He has enough on his mind and more than enough expenses, and I'd never be able to repay him."

"Don't you think he'll notice when you disappear from here for longer every month, and ask about it?"

"With all that's happening around us, he doesn't even remember his own name clearly."

"Even so, Luna or Ginny ought to notice and Hermione's not in the habit of missing any detail of what happens around her."

"Nevertheless, I want you to give me your word that you won't say anything to anyone."

"Please?"

"Oh, all right, but I'm going to find a solution for it, mind you."

"A solution, right. That will be the day..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Molly! Arthur! What a wonderful surprise!"

Since the Burrow had been rebuilt it was quite rare to see the Weasley parents at the House of Black. They kept to themselves at home, trying their best to help whatever the Order was doing, and waiting desperately for any visit from their kids, a rare event these days. In their—mostly Molly's—struggle to keep their children out of the looming war, they'd managed to alienate most of them. These days Ron and Ginny stayed mostly with Harry, Bill went back to his place, George and Fred rented an apartment in London near the entrance to Diagon Alley, Charlie was still in Romania, and Percy—well, Percy was as Percy as ever. Actually, Percy was _more_ Percy than ever...

"We just wanted to be with our family for a while; the Burrow is too empty these days." Molly lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

"You know that you're always welcome here, don't you?"

"Mom, we still love you, you know." Molly found herself hugged by her little girl, who insisted on stopping being a little girl at the worst of times. She returned the hug with all her might, not even trying to hide her tears.

"I miss the Burrow, too," Harry remarked. "It was the first home I've ever felt at ease in. And I absolutely Miss Molly's cooking. Winky is wonderful, but Molly always seasoned hers with something special no one else had access to."

"You're always welcome in our home, Harry." Arthur looked a little more subdued than usual. "Why don't you all come for dinner someday soon? Charlie owled us that he'll be visiting for the weekend. We can have a full family dinner. You're most welcome, too," he added, looking at the Grangers. He turned to face Petunia; then looked at Harry and stopped, lost for words.

"It's fine, Mr. Weasley," Petunia carefully answered. "We wouldn't feel ourselves at ease in a magical house anyway."

Harry gave Molly a questioning look, which was answered with a shrug. "Nonsense, Petunia. It doesn't get any more magical than this place, and Dudley would _love_ to try few new toffees and hear stories about dragons. Did you know that Charlie, one of the Weasleys' older brothers, is a dragon handler?" He turned to Molly and asked innocently, "How _is_ Charlie getting here from Romania this year?"

Petunia blanched and looked more reluctant than ever to visit the Weasleys. Amusingly, Dudley's hands crept to cover his behind, a habit he had been overcoming of late.

"You're so mean, mate."

"Just relax, mate." Fred clapped Dudley's shoulder. "Only brooms and good food."

"We'd love to come," Emma replied.

"Have you heard from Percy lately?" Hermione asked softly. It was a well known secret that ever since the fight, Percy's relations with his family had grown even colder, if possible. He was embarrassed about not being able to fight the Imperius curse and for trying to kill his mother, angry at his sister for breaking his wand, and depressed about getting the cold shoulder from his siblings when he tried to make amends with them.

Arthur looked even more subdued than before and sighed heavily. "I haven't heard from Percy, but I've heard from Kingsley. They're making Percy redundant tomorrow. Kingsley asked me if I wanted to be there for the notification, but I can't do that to one of my sons. I just thanked Kingsley for giving me advance notice."

"Why are they making him redundant?"

"Yes—it's not that I'm Percy's fan, but why now?

"Apparently he's a security risk."

"Percy's a Death Eater?" The room was shocked into silence.

"No! Nothing like that." Arthur looked at Harry, embarrassed. "It appears that Percy is very supportive of anyone who makes any kind of dismissive or insulting remarks about Harry in his hearing. During the cleanup of the Ministry, three marked Death Eaters indicated Percy as a very helpful and rich source of information and assistance in the Minister's office."

"Why don't they move him into some other, insignificant office?" Hermione asked half-heartedly.

"They don't take any chances any more," came Tonks's voice from the end of the table. "In some bizarre way it's Harry's and your fault. You embarrassed the Ministry when you found Death Eaters in highly placed positions in the Ministry organization, and now the Minister wants nothing to do with anyone who even remotely relates to them. To be truthful, I can't fault his logic."

There was a long silence around the table as no one could find anything comforting, or even supportive to say.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Miss Bones, I'm delighted. And is this young Mr. Longbottom? This is a prestigious company indeed. If only young Mr. Potter were here with you, it would have been a complete reunion from the old days. They were good people; the ones who should have led us today."

Susan was a bit lost for words. In the last few weeks she, Neville, and Harry had learned about their parents and families from about every person who happened to speak with them—Goblins, shop owners, and acquaintances—who had never said a word to them about their families before. It was as if they'd held a secret from them all these years. In a way, she felt cheated. Harry and Neville had no parents, at least none they could talk with, but she'd lived almost all her life with her aunt. She knew Aunt Amelia was a remarkable woman, but why would she keep Susan's history from her? Why withhold the knowledge of just how close she, Neville, and Harry used to be to each other? Why keep it a secret?

"We're here for the armour and Invisibility Cloaks. Are the suits made to measure, or in a general size?"

"Well, your order is ready for you. I received the parchment with the results of the charm I asked you to use on the users of this equipment and made sure that everything is made to measure. The armoured suits can be expected to be quite uncomfortable for a week or so, but otherwise they are ready for use. I have prepared the extra Invisibility Cloaks and holsters as requested and done all the charmwork you ordered. The money is good, and you're ready to go. The only problem, as I see it, is how you're going to take it all with you. Since dragonhide is spell resistant, I can't charm it to be either smaller or lighter. Dragonhide is not heavy in and of itself, but fifteen full suits plus pairs of boots, gloves, and a lot of holsters make for ten largish and quite heavy boxes."

"Erm…we'll go to Gringotts and think about a solution on the way."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hush my beating heart."

Hermione was standing in the double-door entry to the Ravenclaw castle library, smiling widely and holding her hand to her chest. Beside her, Luna was trying to stifle her snort graciously. They were responsible for research and were there to start learning their way around their largest research facility. Learning their way around was actually an accurate description: the place was huge! Hogwarts' library, which was, in Hermione's eyes, the reference library against which all other libraries were to be measured, was dwarfed in comparison. Aisle after aisle of long, towering bookcases stretched in every direction. Old tomes, some of which were chained to the shelves; towers of scrolls; row after row of filing cabinets—it was breathtaking, at least if one was Hermione. The library's ceiling looked to be twice as high as Hogwarts' Great Hall and was nicely decorated in bright, colourful frescos describing events from the long history of the wizarding world. Comfortable reading places, both desks and couches, were spread around near large fireplaces which lit up as soon as someone sat down nearby. The whole place was bathed in sunlight from a line of ceiling-high french doors across the entire outer wall, which led to a nice balcony overlooking the meadow and forest edge.

A short peek at one of the bookcases revealed an enticing combination of ancient and modern reading. **Modern?**

"Yes, milady."

Hermione turned around, startled, to find Luna regarding an ancient-looking elf who bowed deeply in front of them.

"I am Sami. My family have been librarians for the Ravenclaw family for more then two millennia, long before it was named Ravenclaw and came to England. I am honoured to help the friends of Lord Ravenclaw," he said, again bowing deeply in front of the two girls.

Luna smiled widely. "Luna Lovegood at your service," she said, bowing in front of the elf, who seemed somewhat embarrassed about being shown such an unaccustomed courtesy.

"Hermione Granger." Hermione hurried to follow. "How do you come to have modern books here?" she hurried to ask.

"We've had ongoing orders with some major magical publishers for many centuries. The accounts are anonymous and provide a mailing address for the publications. I'm sorry to say that we're not as up to date as I should like us to be, since a few of the old publishers have gone out of business and we've been unable to establish new accounts with newer publishers, with no house lord to approve the transactions. It was about 170 years ago that the library began to fall behind the times."

"Can you bring it up to date?"

"With the permission of our Lord Ravenclaw, certainly."

"Can we use this fireplace for Floo calls?"

"Sorry, milady. The castle is not connected to the Floo network these days. Since it was hidden from everyone who was not of family, it was disconnected about a century ago, when the Floo network underwent a renovation process," Sami said in a tone that clearly showed his reluctance and regret at disappointing his master's friends. "Milady can write a note to Lord Ravenclaw and we will see that he gets it immediately."

As soon as Hermione's note was sealed, a young elf appeared in the hall, took the note reverently, bowed deeply, and disappeared after a short whispered conversation with Sami.

"May I be of assistance to you in any other way?"

Luna cut into the conversation. "Can you show us around? Show us the cataloguing system; point out the order of books to us; help us find information? The amount of knowledge stored here is a bit discouraging and we need to be able to find our way around as soon as possible in order to support our friends with the knowledge they need."

Once again the old elf looked troubled. "Milady Lovegood," he said, "I will be most happy to assist you, and there are three more younger elves of the Ravenclaws who know their way around this library, but looking up information here is not a task to be performed under the pressures of time. Most of the books here haven't been opened in centuries. A large part of the collection has never been opened here, if at all. The end of this aisle, for example, holds a large collection of scrolls that one of the family's ancestors managed to buy and salvage from the great library of Alexandria. Very few of these scrolls have ever been read here, and I am very much afraid that, even though we did our best to preserve and restore them, some of them are not readable any more. Back there—" he waved his hand— "are the contents of the library of the Lady Hufflepuff. I was told that she was a great scholar and decided to endow her library to her friend, Lady Ravenclaw, instead of leaving it with the family of her husband, Lord Slytherin.

"Slytherin?"

At that moment, they were interrupted by the young elf, who came back with a reply from Harry. "**That boy!**" Hermione exclaimed, handing the note to Luna.

_Dear Lady Granger,_

_I was most pleased to receive your correspondence regarding the state of my ancestral library. I am certain to approve any investment needed in order to bring said library up to your standards. I hope that you find the facilities convenient and the local staff helpful._

_You are most welcome to contact me with any request or inquiry, as needed._

_Yours,_

_Harry James Potter, Lord of Ravenclaw_

_P.S. I didn't know you were in the habit of using house-elves as messengers…_

Luna, after going over the note, allowed only the slightest smile to reach her lips. She handed the note to Sami and rubbed her hand along her friend's back in sympathy.

"Does the library hold a section of Dark Arts books, or is it dedicated to common magic only?" They were researching one of the Darkest objects in existence, and if the Ravenclaw was a "Light Arts only" library, it wouldn't be helpful as their primary research facility.

"Dark Arts, milady? This place is a centre of knowledge and power. The great milady Ravenclaw said once that there is no Dark knowledge or Light, only pure knowledge, and those not wise enough to seek it."

Luna and Hermione exchanged interested looks. This phrase was almost disturbingly familiar.

"There are a few things you can do for us that will be a big help, Sami. First, we would appreciate a walk around the library with you to get generally acquaintance with the place."

"The war we're fighting revolves around some of the most fundamental disputes of the wizarding world." Luna took her turn. "I believe we'll be better suited to fight it if we have a better understanding of the issues and undercurrents involved." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Does the library hold any kind of journals or scripts by the founders of wizarding England that might help us there?"

Sami took a moment to reflect. "There's always _Hogwarts, A History_ to start with. The first few editions were basically personal journals by the four school founders, edited by milady."

Hermione's eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Do you hold some old editions of the book?" she asked, barely holding her excitement.

"We keep all the editions of all the books we publish, Milady."

"You publish—" Hermione was clearly losing her composure now. "Can you tell me who the current writer of the book is?"

"Milady, for the last 150 years the book has been written by the elves of the Ravenclaw house, working at Hogwarts. Usually one of the older elves of the house is responsible for the editing. The editors of the last thirty editions or so are lady Ravi and I."

The look on Hermione's face was now ironically admiring. "I've been looking for years to find the person who writes this book. I have **so many questions** for you!" She took a moment to think, and then looked a little bit embarrassed. "I need to ask for your forgiveness, too," she remarked softly. "I was angry with the person who wrote _Hogwarts, A History_ for not referring to the house-elves working for the school at all. Now I can see that there was a reason for it."

"The book once told about the elves at school, in the days when they were free elves. Later it was in the interest of all elves to not be noticed, whether they were free or enslaved, so their existence was edited out of the book."

"Are there large differences between the various editions? I was asking the Hogwarts Librarian, Madam Pince, for older editions, but she told me that the library holds only the most recent edition since it's the most up to date, and there's no reason to stuff the place with obsolete books."

"Yes, I know. It's a decision made quite recently—after the fall of Grindelwald, to be precise. Winners tend to try and rewrite history. It's easier done when the old history books disappear," Sami said and pointed his hand at a large bookcase full of various editions of said book. Hermione just stood there speechless in front of the evidence of the centuries of history of her school.

"This is amazing, Sami. I didn't believe anyone would ever be able to render Hermione speechless," Luna said, smiling. "Can you suggest other readings for us on that subject?"

"I should look at some of the Lady Hufflepuff's writings, in your place. It tends to be interesting reading since she was something of a leader among the founders of Hogwarts. Then we have some manuscripts regarding the act of secrecy in the political section, which might make interesting reading."

"Do you have any information regarding Voldemort?" asked Hermione, who seemed to find her voice at last.

"As I have said before," Sami responded in a regretful voice, "this library is sadly not up to date, and Tom Riddle came to Hogwarts only during the late '30s. However," he added, noting the disheartened looks on the girls' faces, "we do have something that might be interesting. I came across the notes of one of the elves who were writing _Hogwarts, A History_ during those days. Apparently he found Riddle's behaviour to be peculiar, so he started following Riddle around. Obviously his remarks didn't make it into the book, but you might find his journals from those years to be interesting."

This was becoming a wonderful day for the research effort and Hermione decided to try the ancient elf on one more subject. "Sami," she said carefully, "our main task right now is looking for any possible information regarding an artefact called a 'Horcrux'. Do you have any kind of information about it?" In all honesty, Hermione expected the elf to be totally ignorant of the term, or be extremely frightened, or angry about them researching it. What she didn't expect was his actual reaction.

For a long moment, Sami's face took on a detached look of concentration, and then his face brightened. "The term is familiar to me," he said. "If I remember correctly, Lady Hufflepuff and Lord Slytherin planned to each make one in order to prolong their lives. It is referred to elaborately in her journals. If you like, I can ask the elves working in the library to look for the information, and any other possible related texts we might have here."

This was almost a dream come true; it seemed they would have a larger problem actually reading all the relevant material than finding relevant references. Luna looked at Hermione for a moment and then her familiar dreamy smile came to her face. "Sami?" she said to the retreating elf, who turned to look at her. "Do you by chance have any information at all regarding an animal called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

"Certainly, milady," he said smiling. "A most amazing beast," he added. He held his hand out and waited for an old tome to come to it from the other side of the hall. "It is a sad thing that it's been extinct for the last two centuries." Sami opened the book to a page that showed an animal that bore an amazing resemblance to a rhinoceros. "I've heard rumours about a few last ones surviving in eastern Sweden, though there is no proof of that."

Luna's smile widened as she turned to look at her friend.

"There'll be no living with her after this," Hermione mumbled to herself, shaking her head, as she turned and went looking for a place to read.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Goodnight, grandmother."

"Goodnight, Neville."

Neville had passed most of his days in the Black residence with his friends, ether training, learning, or socialising. It was the first summer he could remember in which he'd had any kind of social life at all. Usually he just sat in his large and empty home listening to his grandmother talk, mostly to herself, about the days long passed in which the Longbottom family was at the heart of wizarding Britain and its name was praised by all; times in which this house had been full of life and hope. Times not like the present. He was all too happy to escape to his greenhouse, to find his refuge with his beloved plants. They—the plants—had no criticism to make against him, and no expectations of him. Well, some expectations maybe—water, some fertiliser, a few rats to eat—nothing too complicated. What he'd hated the most were the rare times in which a few of his grandmother's old friends came for a visit, or when she and Neville were invited to visit the very few other family members still alive, like the accursed uncle Algie. Then his grandmother turned her open criticism of Neville up a notch, and she had assistance.

"What a shame."

"What our proud family has turned into."

"So not like his father."

"At least not a Squib."

He still remembered the days when uncle Algie used to "help" his grandmother try to discover his magic. He used to be quite familiar with St. Mungos, and not necessarily as a visitor. Deep in his heart he still wasn't sure that his great-uncle wasn't looking for the sad accident that would leave _him_ the heir of the family's title. Neville still remembered clearly the look on Algie's face as he dropped Neville from the upper floor window, and Neville bounced back. Whatever his grandmother had to say, it wasn't joyful.

All that had changed this summer. Actually it had started to change by the end of the previous school year. For the first time in his life he was part of something, and he had _friends._ Not that he was an important part of it, but that wasn't the point. Then they went to the Ministry and he found himself to be needed and effective, to a measure, and he broke his father's wand. He could still feel the rush of magic all through his body when he first held his new wand. He'd almost set the living room on fire since he pushed too much magic into his spell, trying to light up the hearth. His grandmother had obviously a lot of criticism for him, but that time she used a whole new set of expressions, and all of a sudden he was a lot like his father.

Now, it was an entirely new world. He felt "magical", for lack of a more appropriate word. And he had friends, good friends. And he was an important part of something. He was really like his father, and for the first time in his life he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Every night he came back here. He was invited to stay at the Black's, for sure, but he was a Longbottom and he felt that he should come back to his home. **His!** It was a strange feeling since, until just the previous summer; he hadn't been able to wait to be back out of the house. He talked about it with Susan, and oddly, she felt the same. Maybe there was some kind of magical connection between the head of a family and his ancestral home. It was arguably harder on Susan, since the large Bones manor was a very lonely place these days.

It was late at night as he was awaken by the blinking light emitted by his family signet. For a very long moment he watched his ring blinking red while his mind tried to understand where he was and what was happening. Then he sat up with a start—enemies! He threw some Floo powder into the fire and called, "Harry!" as quietly as possible. _Damn Floo system is so slow_, he thought to himself, looking out of the window and trying to locate the danger. "Who is looking for Master Potter?" came a voice from the fireplace. He turned to find an elf's head in the flames. "Winky! Wake Harry up and tell him that my home wards went off. Quick!" He looked back out of the window of his room. He wanted to walk around the house but needed to stay near the heath.

Finally Harry showed in the fire. "Neville?"

"Finally!" Neville sighed. "My home's wards went off. I still haven't found out why. Can you come?"

"In five. Did you finish the Fidelius on the house?"

"Just last night."

"Wonderful. Sit tight and don't do anything stupid."

_Stupid, my arse_, Neville thought to himself. "Just hurry!"

He walked around the dark house trying to locate the danger. Finally, looking out of the front French door, which led to the garden, he saw a group of about six or seven dark shadows hiding under the trees.

"You said this was the Longbottom home," said an angry voice from the dark.

"It's here. I know it is!" insisted a disturbingly familiar voice in response.

"Well, I can't see any manor house here," snarled a too-familiar woman's voice. "I spied on the Longbottoms for days back then, and I don't remember their house being here," she added in a tone that sent shivers down Neville's spine.

Neville didn't pay any attention at all to her tone of voice. With a deep growl he tightened his hold on his wand, squared his shoulders, and rushed to the door, only to be stopped inches from the doorknob by a hand holding the back of his shirt. He turned around, pointing his wand at his grandmother's terrified face. That actually shocked Neville. In all his life, never had he seen his grandmother frightened. Angry? Indifferent? Sure. Disapproving? As often as she could manage. Happy? Amused? A very, very rare event. But scared? Never!

"You can't go out there to fight them," she said in a shaking voice. Neville was about to argue as she softly added, "Not all alone. Don't be like your father." With that, she collapsed on the nearby armchair and broke down crying.

Neville just stood there dumbfounded. "I'll go and dress. They don't seem to be able to find the place. Can you keep an eye on them?"

Augusta nodded her head, rising from her seat as he rushed upstairs to his room to find clothing. _Great thinking, Neville_, he chastised himself as he discovered that he'd left his new dragonhide suit at the Blacks'.

At that moment a chill washed over the house, gathering mist over the manor's windows. _Dementors!_ he thought in alarm, and rushed downstairs, hopping on one leg as he tried to lace his shoe and almost rolling down the stairs.

"Can you make them go?" hissed a frightened voice from outside.

"Look," chided the woman's voice. "Dear Gryffindor Algie is afraid of a few Dementors." No one else said a word. "We promised them a meal. They're going to be disappointed," added the voice after a short silence, "and hungry. Maybe we should feed you to them."

"Look," the man's voice said desperately. "It can't be far from here. There's the Robinson's home. They're Muggles who have cultivated part of the Longbottoms' land for ages."

"That miserable man," hissed Augusta, taking out her wand and making for the door.

"Not doing anything stupid refers to you too," Neville said, stopping her in her tracks.

"We can send the Dementors after them," the man said hopefully.

"We could," answered the woman. "They would be satisfied, and we would be able to reserve you for another dinner." The chill lessened a little as she spoke. "I'm very disappointed with you, friend," she said. "And I'm your greatest ally here. Others will be much more disappointed than I am, and much, _much_ less forgiving."

At that moment the entry hall fire blazed green. "Neville?" came a woman's voice.

"Merlin, thank you!"

"We're coming over."

"Come to the entry hall. There are Death Eaters and Dementors outside."

Moments later, a small group materialised near them, holding a long rope.

Tonks, Bill, Fleur, Hermione and Harry came, all standing in a circle, back to back, all wearing their new battle suits and holding their wands at the ready.

"Clear!"

"What's outside?" It was clear that Tonks was the one in charge.

"I've seen six Death Eaters, and we felt Dementors. I don't know how many," Neville replied with palpable relief. "They can't find the house, thank Merlin, but they went after the Robinsons. They're Muggles working our land," he explained. Then after another thought he added, "Bellatrix is here," noting the look in Tonks' and Harry's eyes change.

"Go upstairs and have a look outside. If they're not here, we'll try and follow them to help these Robinsons."

Neville rushed upstairs as ordered. "I can't see them!" he shouted, running back.

Tonks opened the door, hiding to the right of it behind the wall. As no curses came in, she took a peek out and then pointed Harry and Bill out. "No one's here," came the call back. They scanned the front yard to the trees where the Death Eaters had been standing.

"The Robinsons' house is there, over the hill."

"Right," Tonks said. "Bill, take Hermione and go fifty metres to the right. Harry, take Fleur and do the same to the left. Don't argue, just do it!" she ordered, as both Fleur and Bill opened their mouths to disagree. "Neville, you're with me. We'll try to help and maybe catch ourselves a bitch. Don't rush! If the Death Eaters are here, I want us to see them before they get to see us. And don't do anything stupid!"

"Stay beside me," she ordered Neville as they started their careful walk. "Where's your armour?"

"At the training room," he said softly, lowering his eyes.

"Then stay _behind_ me," she ordered, making it obvious that he hadn't heard the end of it. They walked carefully on under the bright full moon. From the distance a wolf's cry could be heard. _Merlin, don't make it werewolves_, she thought. A group of Death Eaters and a few Dementors were more than enough for the night.

The chill in the air grew steadily. Then, from ahead, few distant cracks of Apparation were heard, then an explosion, and then cries of horror.

"Come along!" shouted Harry on the left, and the sound of running feet carried easily over the grass. Seconds later, the field was brightly illuminated by a silvery stag running toward the house, with a cat-like small animal following.

On their other side, they could hear other running feet, and Bill's mute voice calling Hermione to slow down.

"You stay with me. If there are still Death Eaters here we might surprise them while fighting." Neville nodded silently as they walked on carefully. Suddenly the horrifying screech of a frightened Dementor tore the night, then Harry's cry of "Come in, we might be able to help them!"

The inside of the homely cottage looked like a scene from a B-rated horror movie. The father of the family was lying near the blasted front door, bleeding from various small wounds and looking blankly at the ceiling. He was breathing slowly and it was clear to them all that there was nothing they could do to help him. Harry was crouching on his knees in the corner of the room, hugging two young crying kids, a girl and a boy, and trying to persuade them to go to the other room with him. In the middle of the room Fleur leaned over their mother's body, which convulsed and twitched painfully on the floor. "Will someone help me here? We need to take her to a Healer quickly and we need some chocolate for the kids!" she shouted.

The most disturbing thing in the room was standing, or more accurately cowering and screeching, in the corner. There, trapped between Harry's towering and shining Stag Patronus and Fleur's fading Lynx, backed up against the thick walls of the house, was a lone Dementor. On first seeing the Dementor, Tonks froze at the door. A second later her Werewolf Patronus and Hermione's Otter replaced the fading Lynx in guarding the creature. Trapped by three strong Patroni, the Dementor's depressing aura was completely masked, but the creature's screeches were enough to dispirit and scare the most courageous of men. The inhuman noise went on for a few very long moments, until Bill silenced it with some kind of a sphere of magic.

Tonks looked compassionately at the mother, still convulsing on the floor, then Stupefied her and put her under medical stasis. She put her wand to the woman's temple, pulled a silvery strand from her head, and with a swirl of her wand sent it away. "She has her soul," she said softly. "Everything else can be fixed with time, some potions, and a careful Obliviating."

It took about fifteen minutes for the Aurors and Healers to start arriving. One by one they stood shocked by the sight of the imprisoned Dementor. A young Healer waved her wand over the mother's now-still body, checked the stasis charm, then used a Portkey to take them both away. Another Healer waved his wand over the father's body and shook his head hopelessly. Finally, Harry managed to persuade the kids to go up to their rooms with Fleur, a Healer, and large chunks of chocolate in their hands.

Harry rose to his feet, looked around, and walked the few steps that took him to join Tonks and an older woman in Auror uniform who stood together in silence looking at the trapped Dementor. It still screeched soundlessly behind the silencing sphere and under the guard of three Patroni.

"You caught a Dementor," the woman finally said.

"I didn't catch a Dementor," Tonks answered.

"You _caught_ a Dementor!" the woman said again, stressing her words.

"_I_ didn't catch a Dementor," was the answer.

"But," the woman mumbled, "you caught _a Dementor_!" she repeated, pointing her wand at the beast.

"_Harry_ caught the Dementor," Tonks answered, pointing at Harry and pushing him forward a bit. "Harry, this lovely woman is Kleio Rickard, a fellow senior Auror who was unlucky enough to be on duty tonight. Kleio, meet Harry Potter," she said with the hint of a smile.

"_You_ caught a dementor," Kleio said.

"Yep," Harry said bitterly, "the damn boy who was unlucky enough to live."

"What are you going to do with the thing?"

"What are _we_ are going to do? You take it."

"How in the world am I supposed to 'take' a Dementor? And where do I keep it?"

"Do I look like the Ministry?"

Tonks chuckled softly at Harry's logic. "But I'll tell you this," he added. "There are some two hundred-odd Dementors roaming the country and helping Voldemort. The Ministry should make plans to round them up and either imprison them or somehow kill them, as soon as possible."

"At least give me a little time to call for someone from the Department of Mysteries. Whose is the large bright stag Patronus?"

Tonks nodded in Harry's direction.

"I should have guessed," Kleio mumbled. "Can you keep it up for a little while longer so I can get some Unspeakable help? I should probably call the Minister too," she added, mostly to herself. "An imprisoned Dementor! It hasn't happened in more then a century; he would probably want to be notified."

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"Harry! A word?"

It was morning. One of those two wonderful mornings during the week in which, to allow their bodies to recover, they didn't have physical training and were able to sleep late.

"It's forbidden to train seven days a week," Emma stated during their first week of training.

"We're magical beings," replied Tonks. "Magic heals our bodies and there's no risk at all."

"You can take that non-existent risk with _your_ daughter, then," was the reply, which reminded Tonks too much of her mother for her to be comfortable and keep arguing, so two workout-free days a week it was.

"Guys?"

"We need out,"

Harry was speechless.

"You must admit it. We're rubbish with this training thing. We aren't in shape and seemingly we don't have the magical power to be effective fighters, ether."

Harry looked from brother to brother, not knowing how to react.

"Anyway, the battlefield isn't our place. We're needed in the research and weapons development department. Between all the training and our shop, we hardly have time to think, not to mention develop and test anything useful," George said.

"We started to work on a method for long distance fighting, but we lack the time, and frankly you need the weapons more than you need two additional fighters," said his brother.

"Can you at least talk to Tonks before making your decision?" Harry pleaded.

"We'll talk with her, but I think the decision is already made."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**"What the bloody hell was that?"**

Breakfast at Grimmauld Place was not an amusing occasion at all. At the moment Tonks was drawing all the attention, and the rest of them did their best to avoid any attention at all.

"What was that, Harry? What exactly didn't you understand about the order 'don't rush'? Was I speaking ancient Hebrew?"

"I—"

"**Don't answer me!**"

Harry lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

"Do you really want to die so soon?"

Harry couldn't stop himself then. "But the Dementors were attacking the Robinsons—"

"Sure," Tonks said, riding right over the top of him, "and if my darling aunt was just a bit more interested in watching some Muggle torture, then punishing a new 'employee', you would have been **dead,**" she said, cutting his speech off. "First you would have died, then it would have been Fleur's turn," she said, looking at the French girl who was by now looking quite nauseous. "For following your example in stupidity and running after you," Tonks went on mercilessly. "And you'll get your friends killed for being your friends and running after you into stupid situations, just for being your friends. Last night it would have been Hermione."

Hermione's parents were looking between their daughter, Harry, and Tonks, not looking amused at all.

"I thought you'd have learned this lesson by now..."

Harry looked as if he'd been hit in the gut.

But the lecture was nowhere near finished. "Next in line would have been Bill and me. Bill, since I don't expect him to stand back and do nothing when his girlfriend is being tortured by Death Eaters, and me because I prefer to die myself then tell the wolf there—" she pointed at Remus who sat in the corner looking like a shadow of his usual self— "that I let you kill yourself and did nothing. Probably the only one standing at the end of the night would have been Neville, but I can't even be sure of that."

For the shortest of moments Neville looked almost proud of himself.

"That's because he decided, just last night, to **forget his body armour**."

And Neville looked proud no more.

"Next time something like this happens, you tell me before the fight and stay home or I'll turn you into a small white mouse myself." Tonks turned her gaze to Neville, who was looking for something to hide under.

"As for you—" She turned back to Harry, and then passed her stare around the room. "When you go into battle, you do as planned, and, especially as **ordered**, otherwise you turn out dead." She returned her eyes to Harry. "Deceased," she said, "departed, gone, expired, perished, belly-up, kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies; savvy?"

There was a very long and uncomfortable silence in the room.

"Since my new recruits are arriving today, I'll go and take out my foul mood on them, and hopefully you'll have some time to reflect on your stupidity, and foul luck before the next time we meet." With these last words, she turned around, went to the corner of the room to give Remus a soft kiss on his nose, and Disapparated with a loud cracking sound that put Fred and George to shame.

Tonks' departure did nothing to elevate the mood in the room. Harry was battling himself mercilessly. He could easily identify with Dobby now, and for a moment he thought about getting instructions on the most effective way of ironing his ears, or any equivalent punishment. Once again he'd been stupid—_Gryffindor_ and stupid—and dangerous to his friends. Even if he was learning, he was certainly not learning the right lessons, or at least not fast enough.

Emma and Dan weren't happy ether. Their life had just received a huge blow when their home was destroyed by terrorists, and they found themselves hiding in their homeland from people they couldn't defend themselves against. Not only that, but now they had discovered that they couldn't sleep at night, even in this "safe house", since their beloved and only daughter was going out, late at night, into danger. Danger they knew nothing about.

"What happened last night?"

"Neville called for help."

"There were Death Eaters at my place, and Dementors," Neville chipped in. "My wards went off, so I called for help. We, my grandmother and I, were lucky to get our house under the Fidelius in time, so they couldn't find the place. Instead, they went after the Robinsons. They're a family of Muggles who have been working our land for centuries. We went to help them, but we couldn't save the father. Mrs. Robinson is in St. Mungo's and I believe she's going to be fine in a couple of days. The kids were unharmed, but we'll have to Obliviate all of them as soon as the mother can be sent home."

"And Harry caught the Dementor that attacked the Robinsons' home," Hermione added. "I think he's the first one to do so for at least a century."

"What aren't you telling us?" Emma knew her daughter enough to know a partial answer when given one.

"What you told us just now is no reason for the lecture we just witnessed, and especially not the guilty looks on all your faces."

"Sorry, Dad."

"_I_ made a mistake last night," came the soft answer. Harry was standing next to them and listening to their conversation. He wasn't ready to let his friends take any blame for his mistakes. "Happy birthday, by the way, Neville."

Neville nodded his thanks.

"You just tried to help them."

Harry silenced Hermione with a look. "We were given clear instructions, and I didn't listen."

"What happened?"

"We tried to follow the Death Eaters and help the Robinsons." Neville started to describe the night. "We didn't know how many Death Eaters were there, or where they were, so Tonks instructed us to spread out and not rush, so we would have a chance to see the Death Eaters before they noticed us following them, and even if they did, they wouldn't see all of us at once."

"We did as she said." Hermione picked up the explanation. "At least for a while, and then the screaming started."

"And I just forgot about the orders, and my friends, and the danger. I just rushed right into the house with my Patronus and with most of my friends running after me, to try and help me."

"That wasn't very clever of you."

"I_know_!" Harry said desperately, looking at Dan. "I always seem to do these stupid things. It's just like two years ago, when I rushed into the Ministry and got Sirius killed and all the others wounded. It's something in me I just don't know how to control."

"How many times have we told you that it wasn't your fault? You checked as much as you could, and you were certain that a man you cared for was in danger."

"You know, Hermione, I'm still not convinced. It's been two years since then. I'm older; I've got over Sirius's death, probably as much as I'll ever be able to; maybe we can discuss it now and be honest for once. I know I didn't kill Sirius—Bellatrix did, Riddle did; for Merlin's sake, even Dumbledore contributed quite a bit. But at the time, **I could have prevented it!**"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, the kind that happens when people are treading on ground they've avoided for a long time.

"You can't stop helping people, it's part of who you are. Would you have preferred to leave Ginny alone in the Chamber?"

"Maybe it would have been better to go there with some kind of a plan, or at least a rooster!"

"You're a brave man. You should stop hiding from that fact. You're a great wizard, and a brave man, and a wonderful friend. That's what makes you our leader."

"I don't know about all that, but I do know that I've been extremely lucky, and other people have paid for my mistakes. Well, Fawkes isn't here any more, and one day I'm bound to run out of luck."

"But you're not going to run out of friends, or courage."

"Wonderful, so I'll just keep using my friends," Harry summed up in desperation.

Dan and Emma watched the argument between their daughter and Harry with very mixed emotions. "So, Harry," Dan finally said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Daddy!"

"I'm talking with Harry."

"I'm learning," Harry finally answered after a long silence. "I'm training—_we_ are training—and I've accepted the responsibility. It's just that I don't know if I'll be able to avoid these mistakes in the future, and I'm sure am not learning fast enough."

"Harry!"

Dan silenced his daughter with a look. "That's a very good answer," he said softly. "It's what training does—conditions you to do the right thing in times when you don't have the luxury of thinking first."

Harry nodded silently, not really expecting this kind of response from Hermione's parents.

"We really try our best, Daddy."

"It's just that we learn magic, not how to fight."

"Harry, it's only the beginning. You can't do it all. We hardly get any sleep as it is."

"That's not so clever—"

"I know, Daddy, but we just don't have the time."

"She's right, Dan. We work on our physical and magical fitness almost every day, until about two in the afternoon, then we learn more magic till evening comes, then we all have our 'special projects' to work on."

"Then there's the problem that we don't have anyone to learn magical battle from."

"Harry's right. We have Mum and Tonks to torture us in the mornings, and Tonks is doing wonderful work with our magical conditioning too. Then we have books to learn magic from. It's slower, but Harry's mother and Neville's father did a large part of the work for us. But fighting?"

"It took me an hour with a computer game to understand that we can do it a lot better. Hell, it took Dan five minutes of discussion to come to the same conclusion. The problem is that we can't learn fighting skills from a computer game, and we have no one to teach us."

"Would you like us to look into that?"

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"There must be someone trustworthy out there with battle savvy, someone who can teach you."

"We can't tell anyone about magic!"

Harry chuckled softly, hearing this. "What?" he said, tackled by her glare. "We can break every rule in the book, kill Ministry employees inside the Ministry building, but we can't tell one person about magic?"

"Excuse me for interrupting..." Susan had stood there and listened silently almost from the start. But now she felt almost forced to intervene in the conversation. "We've talked about it in the past, Harry. Most of these rules are in place for a reason."

"Sure, but I haven't heard about witch-hunting since the seventeenth century."

"Harry, this isn't like you."

He looked around, a little surprised.

"What do you think would happen if the existence of the wizarding world was ever made public? Half of the world's population would be terrified of us and would try to fight us. The other half would expect us to solve all their problems with magic, and would blame us for all their mishaps."

"Right, like in X-men." Dan was silenced by Emma's elbow, but Harry nodded his head in understanding.

"It might be right, but telling one man about wizards won't reveal wizarding Britain."

"What if he wasn't trustworthy?"

"Didn't you once say that you can erase a person's memory?"

"We can, Mum."

"And besides, if that person tries to talk about it to anyone, he's going to find himself hospitalised," Dan chuckled.

"Dear," remarked Emma with a thoughtful look, "what if we can find someone to help you who knows about wizards already?"

"Yes! What do you call those people from magical families who can't do magic?"

"Squibs? Sure, but how will we find them?"

"We can't ask around for them, that's for sure. Families will never admit to having a Squib."

"So what do we do?" Harry asked, looking at Susan.

"Low-lifes always gather." Petunia's voice came as a surprise to them all. "You ask one Squib that you know about others," she added as she walked out of the kitchen.

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Others in the room were also not thrilled.

"You don't control my life. Do it one more time and there'll be bats coming out of your nose **for eternity!**"

"You're too young to go out and fight."

"And just who are you? Professor Griselda Marchbanks?"

"I'm of age!"

"I don't know about that, but you're certainly not of magic."

Neville flinched at the last remark. He was sitting to the side with Luna and watched the shouting war in astonishment.

"Do you know what all this is all about?"

Luna shrugged. "Happy birthday, Neville," she added.

"It's about last night."

They looked back in surprise to see Dudley sitting quietly in the corner of the room, watching the same shouting contest.

"Last night, the woman with the—" he stopped in the middle of the sentence— "colourful hair," he settled for after a moment's thought, "didn't allow Ron to go out, wherever they all went," he continued his explanation. "She said he wasn't ready to fight. He tried to argue with them and then said that the girl—"

"Ginny?" Luna supplied.

"Ginny! He said she couldn't go since she was too young. Then he said he was going to...call? Fire?"

"Floo," Neville answered.

"Floo, right—he said he was going to Floo his mother about it. They shouted and argued till Harry told them that they didn't have the time to wait, and they all left without Ron and Ginny. They kept shouting until my mother told them off. Ginny did something to Ron and he had green bats of Ugh coming out of his nose and attacking him. It looked quite painful. I think he wanted to do something nasty to Mum, but the bats got in his way."

"Oh my," Neville sighed.

"**Harry!**"

"What does she want him to do?" Dudley asked carefully.

"Probably make a stand against Ron for her," Neville explained. "Where do you stand on the matter?" he asked Luna after a short reflection.

"I'm going to look for Efelents in the attic. They like to nest there, in the dark, on warm sunny days like this."

"Oh, no you don't," Neville smiled at her. "This is about you as much as it is about her. Only Ginny has her mother and too many overbearing brothers to fight her way, though."

"But I never make a stand on anything?"

"She's your friend, Luna. For many long years she was your _only_ friend," Neville stressed. "If you go on fighting while she's not allowed, it will be like rubbing salt in the wound."

Luna nodded, sighed, and went to stand by her friend, earning herself a small, thankful smile.

"You stay out of it," Ron warned Harry as he came near. "It's a family matter," he added.

"It has nothing to do with the family. It's my decision to make."

Harry exchanged a look with Bill and sighed; then he said, "Actually, it's my decision to make—or, for the time being, Tonks'. We will only let those who are ready out into battle," he said, looking pointedly at Ron.

"So _I'm_ not good enough? And what about Luna? Is she good enough?"

For a short second, Luna's eyes lost their distant look.

"Actually, at this point you both are definitely 'good enough'" Harry answered, looking worriedly at Bill.

"So it's settled," Ginny said, turning around.

"Nothing is settled yet, sis."

In a blink of an eye Ginny's wand appeared in her hand, pointed at her brother, its point glowing dark green.

"Don't point that thing at me, little sis. I'm on your side here—and don't forget it was me who invented that specific jinx you enjoy so much."

Ginny nodded and pocketed her wand, a little embarrassed.

Bill looked from Ginny to Harry to Ron for a very long moment, then said, "I believe Luna's task and yours will be to train Hogwarts students into an effective fighting unit, as soon as the school reopens."

Ginny started to object but was silenced by a motion of his hand.

"In order to do so, you'll both need some real battle experience," he continued, watching Ginny release her breath and Ron turn a deeper and deeper shade of red. "It's just that I don't want to rush it. Yesterday we were at risk of running into an ambush, and it was the wrong time for your first taste of battle. Before long we'll be planning our own attacks against the Death Eaters, and, if you train hard enough, you'll be there with the rest of us, I promise."

"Is it settled, then?" Harry asked; when he didn't get any response, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, followed by most of the people in the room.

Ron looked bitter as everyone left. "Settled, right. I'll show them," he mumbled to himself, and went to the entry hall only to find Bill standing by the fireplace.

"Are you planning, by any chance, to Floo Mum?" Bill asked, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Let me give you a piece of advice," he said, when Ron didn't respond. "We all love Mother dearly, but we know who she is too. We, the Weasley brothers, _never_ go to Mum to solve our problems. I won't stop you from Flooing her, but if you do it will be the last time that ether Charlie or I or, for that matter, George and Fred, will ever give you a helping hand," he said and walked out and up the stairs to start the day's magical training.

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"Can you please help me?"

Hermione raised her head from the book in which she was engulfed to see Susan standing timidly in front of her. "Sure, Susan, what can I do for you?" She smiled at her classmate.

"Do you remember the meeting at Gringotts we went to about a week ago?"

Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"We met a guy there that I need to get in touch with."

Hermione nodded for her to go on.

"He gave me this card," Susan said and handed her a fancy business card. "I tried to call his name, I tried to say the number on the card, I tried to throw the card into the Floo, but it doesn't work," she said in frustration.

"Bradley Howard?"

Susan nodded in confirmation.

"This is his phone number. You can't reach him through the Floo. You need to use a telephone."

"Tele—"

"Telephone—it's what regular people use to talk with someone who is away. It's like the Floo network. You can't travel through it, but it's much more comfortable and efficient as a means of communication."

Susan looked completely at lost.

"Would you like me to show you?"

Susan nodded with apparent relief.

"Let's go outside then. I'll just tell Harry where we are." Hermione walked Susan to the local phone box, on the other side of Grimmauld Place. She showed her how to insert the coins, dial the number, and use the handset, then stood to the side so as not to eavesdrop on a private conversation.

- "**Mr. Howard?**"

- "_Oh, was I talking too loud?"_

- "Is this all right?"

- "Can I speak with Mr. Howard, please?"

- "Mr. Howard? It's Susan Bones."

- "Bradley, then," she said, smiling. "I was thinking about you."

- "No, I mean I was thinking about the work we do."

- "I'm still not sure I understand everything. Can I ask you to meet with me and help me a little more?"

- "I don't know where it is."

- "Tube?"

- "It will be lovely. Give me a moment to ask."

She turned to Hermione. "Do you know a place around here where I can meet with Bradley?" she asked, a bit desperately.

"You can invite him to the coffee place where Harry usually goes. Give me the phone and I'll give him the address."

A short moment later they were both walking toward the coffee shop so Hermione could show Susan around and explain things to her before Bradley arrived.

"Bradley?"

Susan blushed profusely. "He's an investment banker for Gringotts."

"Is he good looking?" Hermione asked teasingly.

Susan's blush deepened. "He's nice," she finally said.

"I'm ashamed to say it, but I never would have guessed that you'd be interested in someone who wasn't a wizard."

"Don't be. I'm still surprised myself. I'm not that kind of girl, you know."

"Oh—famous last words!" Hermione teased, smiling widely.

"Hush, you! I'm really not. This is what I hate most about Hogwarts Houses. You all think that we Hufflepuff girls are stupid, romantic readers of _Teen Witch_ _Weekly_."

"So?"

"So when I first saw him, I couldn't take my eyes off him!"

"Well, good luck to you."

At that moment they arrived at the coffee shop, and Hermione settled them in two comfortable armchairs in the corner and asked for some tea.

"By the way," she said, "can you tell me more about your meeting at Gringotts?"

"I must say that I didn't understand all of it. From what I did understand, it appears that the Goblins tempted most of the families who finance You-Know-Who to invest most of their money in Muggle companies, controlled by us—the Potters, Longbottoms, and Boneses. They say it's impossible to earn money in the wizarding world; I didn't really understand why. For years, the Goblins spread rumours about the profits we made in Muggle markets, and when asked, told the investors that Gringotts doesn't allow these kinds of investments and that our parents took unreasonable risks. The Death Eaters' families insisted on investing their money the same way our families did. The Goblins even made them lose some money to give them a taste of the risk. As far as I can understand, it took the Goblins about ten years, but right now they're ready to make these families lose most of their liquid money in a few days, while giving us only reasonable losses."

"That was the Goblins' idea?"

"No, they say it was all Lily Potter's."

"You know, I was always thought of her as the pretty and smart wife of Harry's father, but she was truly a remarkable woman."

Susan nodded solemnly. "They all were—Harry's mother, Neville's father, my aunt. I just can't reconcile what we now know about Dumbledore with the Headmaster we knew and loved."

Hermione nodded, and for a while they just set there in silence, enjoying their tea, until Bradley showed up at the door.

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Uma looked worriedly at her friend's hair. She had long since discovered that Tonks' hair colour was a clear indication of Tonks' state of mind. This day it was dull brown. Blond she had seen before, even jet black—but this?

"Are you all right, dear? Is it your wolf-man?"

"Partly," Tonks sighed, falling into the chair near her friend.

"Tea? Beer?"

"I need something much stronger today. Let's see what they can do with vodka here."

"That kind of a day, then? Is it the wolf-man? Do you need me to smack him up a little for you?"

"Well, it is Remus..."

"Remus? How fitting for a wolf-man."

"Much more fitting than you can ever imagine," Tonks said, as a small smile crept onto her lips.

"He's the real legendary Remus?"

"No, silly. That would make him, what—almost three thousand years old? I might be into older men, but I'm not _that_ perverted."

"One day you might learn that age has nothing to do with love."

"You and your sacred love! Love doesn't solve everything, I'll have you know."

"Lovers; Are very special people; They're the luckiest people in the world."

"Hein?"

"I'll forgive you this time, since you're so young. So what happened to Remus that made you choose such a dull hair colour today?"

"It's a combination of things, actually. When I met Remus I knew he was sick and that there was no cure for him. He's using a very expensive medication to make his life tolerable. Lately he's lost his source for that medication. We don't have the money to buy it from any other source, and my dear Remus is too bloody noble to ask for help from those who do."

Uma nodded in understanding and sympathy. It's a shame, she thought, that those who really need it rarely have medical insurance.

"Then, last night, people attacked the home of one of the young men I help to train. We tried to fight them off, but we couldn't get there in time. They brought creatures with them, horrible creatures—I couldn't go back to bed afterward. We drove the creatures off and captured one of them. They attacked the home of a family working the land of one of my young men, but we were too late there, too. The creature ate—I don't know how to explain it, but the father of the family was lost, and the mother severely hurt. Listen to me, please—I know it sounds like I've lost it, but if you ever feel like the world quickly becomes much colder than is natural, run for your life away from the cold."

Uma looked at her friend suspiciously. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There is so much I'm not telling you..."

Uma watched as Tonks took out the short stick she always carried around, playing with it and twiddling it between her fingers from time to time. This time she looked at it in silence for a very long moment.

"Bugger! I have the right to a friend of my choice," she said to herself. "Uma, would you mind going somewhere a little more private?"

After a short silence, Uma nodded in agreement, rose, and put her hand out to Tonks. "Come," she said softly. "Let's go and talk."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hi! You're back."

"I went out to show Sus how to use the telephone."

"Sus?"

"Miss Susan Bones," Hermione replied in a formal tone while smiling. "She's a friend, so yes—Sus."

"Telephone?"

"Someone gave her a business card and she tried to use it over the Floo, so I helped her."

"Someone?"

"Bradley Howard."

"Bradley!" Harry said with a knowing smile.

"Exactly. You should have seen her face when he entered the coffeehouse."

"You should have seen her face when he gave her that business card!"

They both giggled happily.

"Where did they go?"

"I gave Bradley the address to your coffeehouse and showed Susan what to do there. I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? You say it as if it really is _my_ coffeehouse."

"Harry," she said hesitantly, "I asked Susan a bit about your meeting at Gringotts on the way. I hope you don't mind about that, too."

Harry shook his head in dismissal. "I just didn't have the time to tell you myself. What do you think?"

"About the plan? It's excellent. I'm just afraid that now Voldemort and his financing families will go against the Goblins in retribution."

"I asked them about that myself, at the meeting. Ironblaze said that they arranged it so that the Death Eaters had to go around Gringotts, and through an American Goblin family, in order to put their money forward. He said he isn't really afraid that Voldemort will choose to start his war against the Goblins even before he's had any meaningful success in his war against wizards. Ironblaze also said that if Voldemort _is_ stupid enough to do that, than the plan would be beneficial to both Wizards _and_ goblins in more than one way."

"He might be right."

"I have the feeling he usually is."

"So, what are your plans for the morning?"

"Since I'm frustrated and angry with myself, I think I'll go throw some magic around. Coming?"

"Sure, fun at the training room. Mind if we try something I've been thinking about?"

"Sure, be a lab mouse; then, try and take over the world!"

They finished up with quite a large group of people. Ron and Neville joined them. Ginny was already in the training room, having her usual friendly competition with Luna. As soon as they entered the room she gave Ron a nasty look and moved to the farthest part of the room from where he was standing.

Also joining were Su Li, who was just visiting to consult with Hermione about something, and Bill and Fleur, who enjoyed the workout. Remus was still too weak to do serious magic, but he sat in the corner of the room watching and gave advice when needed.

They started their usual sequence of drills. After a short while, Hermione stopped Harry.

"Mind if we try something new?"

"What's on your mind?"

"I want you to do the moving targets drill, but this time we'll have more targets, and we'll charm them to move faster."

"Wonderful," Harry mumbled.

"And there's the good part!"

"Oh, it gets better?"

"I'll give magic capability to the targets so they'll fire Stunners and stronger Stingers at you all the time."

"Smashing!"

It was just torturous. However he turned, he couldn't cover all the targets at the same time. For the first time since they started training, he had to resort to the use of a shield during training in order to actually defend himself against the targets, although not against Tonks and Remus. It took Harry a while to get into some kind of rhythm. In a rotation of sorts, he would block the target on his back with a shield. Usually he just used the sphere shield and didn't bother with localised ones. Then he would block one target, hitting it with magic, and if needed he would dodge the spells from the last one. He soon discovered that the main issue was to keep in mind the location of all three targets all the time. His time behind shelter was considerably increased also. Finally he discovered that by overwhelming a target with magic he could shut it down for long enough to do the same to the next one. Soon he settled into sending long rays of magic, meant to be Reductos, into the targets from behind shelter, and came out of shelter only to locate the targets anew. Finally he crouched behind one of the shelters to send a very long red ray of magic into one of the targets, moving his wand around and from hand to hand without breaking the curse, while getting ready to jump out from behind shelter. There was a loud clash and as he came out, the three targets dropped onto the floor. Looking around him in astonishment, he saw Bill looking at him wide eyed while Luna was supporting a much shaken Hermione and helping her to a seat.

"What happened? Why did it stop?"

Bill looked as if he was going to reply, then just shook his head and went to check the runes in the corners of the room.

"What?" Harry asked, a bit concerned now.

"Oh, nothing, dear," Ginny said, imitating her mother. "You just overwhelmed the room's magic," she said.

"And Hermione's magic too, I daresay," Luna added in a dry, mocking tone.

"Was that supposed to happen?"

"No, not really," replied Bill. "I had upgraded the channelling runes, added magic sinks both here and in almost every room in the house. I've also added two more reservoirs to the original four."

Harry didn't understand a word of it.

"Let me explain. No object can generate its own magic. Magic is a living entity. You'll note that objects can be passively charmed to be light, sticky, invisible, et cetera, but if you want an object to actively do something you must supply it with magic. The most usual source for such magic is magical beings around it. If you take a careful look at a self-inking quill, for example, you'll notice a rune engraved on it. That's a magic sink rune, dedicated to drawing magic from the user to activate the self-inking charm. Give a self-inking quill to a Muggle and it won't have any ink at all."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"This room is very heavily and actively charmed," Bill continued with the lecture. "In order to enable it we, that means I, put runes all around the house to draw magic from every magical being in it, to channel it and to store it."

At this point Hermione looked extremely interested, though still too tired to ask questions.

"You use sinking runes to capture residual magic, channelling runes to lead it wherever you need it, and reservoir stones to store the magic until it's needed. This is the way wards operate. Normally, an adequately warded house will have sinking runes at main rooms, basic channelling runes, and one or two reservoirs. This house's wards were massively upgraded so the house had better channelling runes and four reservoirs. That way it could withstand longer against magical attack, and could be replenished faster. If I understand it right, the Blacks intended to order any house-elf in the residence into the ritual room in case of a prolonged attack, and use their magic to replenish the reservoirs."

"They were always the charming ones," Ginny remarked dryly.

"So what we did has left the house unwarded?" Harry asked in alarm.

Bill looked a bit uncomfortable. "I might have made a mistake here. I'll correct it, but not until tomorrow morning. I'm going to add two more reservoirs and make them dedicated to the wards. We might deplete the room again, but the wards will be up long enough for the room's reservoirs to replenish."

"Where are the reservoirs located?"

"Well, the newest two are the large round stones you can see in the corners of the room. The original two are the decorated architraves above the front and back doors. The other two are located in the front hall but aren't currently connected."

"So at least two are exposed to attackers outside the house?"

"It's still inside the wards. It's a very common design. Attackers wouldn't be able to hit the reservoirs by ether magical or physical methods and the wards show off its strength."

"Wizards," Hermione mumbled.

"So Harry just used all the magic in four reservoir stones? How much power did he use to do that?"

"I don't really know. Give me a week and I'll calculate it," was the sarcastic response.

"Is there a way to measure a wizard's power?"

"I've read something about it, Neville. I think there's a way to measure the magic one puts into his spells, not his power per se. I must admit that I didn't completely understand the difference."

"Let's do it!"

"Ron," said his brother, shaking his head. "What good will it do?"

Remus just shook his head and smiled. "Every generation of wizards just have to measure themselves and compare," he said. "There were years when they regularly did these tests during the students' last year of Hogwarts. It was well before my time. Minerva once told me that they stopped that tradition because it caused too many disputes for no good reason."

"So do you know how to do the test?"

"Sure," he smiled. Do you really think the Marauders could restrain themselves? And how do you think Sirius and James felt about Lily's scores?"

"I don't know if I'm interested," Harry said.

"I don't know ether," Hermione agreed. "We're all capable wizards, and the information won't do us any good."

"Oh, come on!" Ron enthused. "This will be fun!"

Harry looked sceptical.

"Right, if we're going to do this we all need to rest a little and have a little something to eat. Go to the kitchen while I set up the charms on one of the targets."

They were heading out of the training room when Harry was stopped by Hermione. "Harry, did you get a chance to practice the curse from the notebook? The one that shoots metal darts?"

Harry nodded, looking at her questioningly.

"Can you show me? I've tried and failed."

Harry raised an eyebrow but turned toward the closest target, swirled his wand in a small circular motion and with a tiny jab sent an iron dart into the target, missing the centre by inches.

"Did you manage to change the type of metal? That's where I failed."

Harry repeated the motion, this time sending a copper dart, and a second later another dart, this time made of steel. Once again, the darts were a tiny bit off centre.

"Silver?" Hermione asked. "It might be practical against werewolves," she added, noting his quizzical look.

Remus took a hasty step backward, and looked as if he was about to say something, but he was silenced by the touch of Luna's hand and a tiny shake of her head.

Harry shrugged and sent another arrow into the target. A small frown appeared on his face since the arrow was clearly not silver. He concentrated and failed again. Once again Remus was about to speak and again was silenced by Luna, this time much more resolutely.

Remus looked on in wonder as Harry concentrated, repeating the wand movements while mumbling "_A__rgent_," under his breath. This time a silver dart hit the target, again—off centre.

Remus took another step back, his mouth gaping in utter surprise.

"Close your mouth please, Remus, we are not a codfish," Luna told him quietly, her distant smile firmly on her face.

"Gold?"

There was a feeling of condensed magic in the room, and seconds later a golden dart was stuck in the target. "Damn! I can make my magic go where I want it, but I just can't aim these darts true."

"Never mind, Harry; let's go have something to eat and you can explain to me how you do it on the way. I could only manage iron," Hermione said conversationally, and she led Harry out of the training room as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

"Did she do it on purpose?"

"Hermione?"

"Sorry for asking..."

"So what's it all about?"

"Hermione and I just wanted to test a little something we'd thought of."

"Little? Wait till Tonks hears what happened here while she was away playing with her tin soldiers."

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"A witch!" Uma was smiling widely.

"Actually, you're taking it a lot better than I would ever have believed." Tonks looked around her small apartment. She sighed and waved her wand around, looking a little miffed as only a small part of the mess that was her belongings found its way into the appropriate places.

"Not quite Mary Poppins," Uma teased.

"Hein?"

"Didn't you see the film?"

"Film? I don't know. We wizards aren't much into regular-people culture."

"So what do you sorceresses do for day-to-day life? Make steamy potions out of tadpole and bat eyes? Curse old families? Ride brooms?"

"I'm truly crap at brewing potions; I was hardly good enough to get into the Auror academy. I'm not so much into cursing people, although today was an exception. Brooms are fun; I should give you a ride one day. Mostly, I'm an Auror—a policewoman; a squad leader, these days. I live my regular life, go to work, help my friends, worry for my lover, the usual."

"And this mysterious sickness your man is suffering from?" Uma asked gently.

"He's got lycanthropy," Tonks said softly. "He's a werewolf," she added, noting Uma's quizzical look.

"So he really is a wolf-man."

"I can't even describe how horrible this disease is, the suffering he goes through every full moon. He used to get this special potion to help him, but now the potion master who used to brew it has been revealed as a traitor and Death Eater. The potion is just too complicated for anyone else to brew, and there's just no way for us to pay for the ingredients anyway. Every forced transformation ruins his body further. I'm just at a loss!"

"What about willing transformation?"

"What do you mean?"

"You showed me earlier how you change your body. Did it hurt? Did it harm you in any way?"

"No, but..."

"Can you turn into an animal?"

"No, you need to learn how to do that, but—"

"Does it hurt? I mean, when you know how to?"

"No, but—"

"Did your friend ever try it?"

Tonks sat staring dumbly at Uma, faint realisation just now beginning to dawn.

_Wizards_, Uma thought. It's always the same thing. Once someone knows a little more about the world around him than is usual, soon enough he forgets to look farther. And they think being a werewolf is a curse. People used to beg and work half their life to become werewolves—Odin's warriors.

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"Right, this is the target we've charmed for the test. Each one of us in turn should stand about ten feet from the target and shoot as much continuous magic as he can into the target for a minute's time."

"Are we sure we want to do this?"

"Oh hush, you," Ginny said. "Let me be first." She moved in front of the target, pulled her wand out, and pointed at the target, squared her shoulders and started sending continuous red streaks of magic.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Evening."

Ginny raised her head from the notes she was reading and smiled when she noticed Harry standing in front of her. "Evening," she replied, "and happy birthday."

"Thanks! Busy?"

"Not really, just reading some notes I got from Hermione about some shield spells she wants me and Luna to learn. They're probably from your mother's notebook."

"Probably. Can we talk?"

"Sure," she said and put the parchment aside. "What do you plan for your birthday?" she asked.

"I was thinking about having a nice dinner out in town, in a posh restaurant, with a very nice girl I know—and that I've owed her a long, honest talk for too long now. What do you think?"

"I think I'm not sure I have the appropriate clothes, or am I presuming too much?"

"Can you ask Hermione or Emma to help you with that? Don't worry about it," he added as she tried to object. "I'll ask Dan to help me choose a restaurant and make reservations."

Two hours later Ginny and Harry met again in the entry hall, both holding several shopping bags from a variety of fashion shops.

"I discovered that I don't have any appropriate clothing either." Harry smiled sheepishly at his friend.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I certainly did. I had Dan fight over me with the salespersons in five different shops. They all said the same: that I am seventeen, not seventy-one. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, I _did_! I think Emma here had even more fun than I did. She just wouldn't stop."

Dan and Emma, standing off to the side, were hugged in thanks and looked like cats who had just stolen large bowl of cream. "How do you think _I_ feel, being a mother to a child whose idea of fun is going to five different bookshops in one afternoon?"

"_Mum!_" came Hermione's voice as she passed through on her way to the library.

At that moment the smile fell from Ginny's face. "Oh Harry," she said. "I bought so much more than I needed. I'll have to find a way to pay you back, I promise."

He hushed her by putting his finger over her lips. "Hey!" he said softly. "None of that, please. I enjoy the look in your eyes, and I enjoy the look on Emma's face too. Just consider this _my_ birthday present, right?"

They were caught in the moment, their eyes interlocked, as—

"Bloody wonderful, mate. Now you're buying your girls, too."

Harry sighed and watched the look in Gunny's eyes turn from happiness to burning anger, or was that hatred hidden in there? She turned around to face her brother, taking out her wand in one fluid motion. She was stopped by Harry's hand and lowered her wand, but she still held it at her side, her knuckles white as she gripped her wand angrily.

"What is it with you, Ron? Why do you insist on alienating all your friends? Hermione, Ginny, me? Who's next?"

"Friends? Friends don't stab their mates in the back!"

"What?" For a moment Harry wanted to try and reason with him. Then he said again, "What do you _want_, Ron?"

"I want to know just what you think you're doing to my baby sister," Ron responded. "And Gin—give him back all these bags right now!"

"Are you completely out of your bloody mind? Harry didn't do anything to me, and since when did you become my parent, ordering me around?"

Once again, Harry tried to calm Ginny, putting his hand softly on her shoulder. "My birthday is tonight, and Ginny and I are going out for dinner," he answered in a calm tone, which was a complete contradiction to the way he was feeling at the moment.

A strange expression crossed Ron's face. "I don't have a choice, then," he said in a dramatic voice and went to the fireplace. "The Burrow," he said, throwing a pinch of Floo powder in.

"Ron?"

"Mum, you need to come here and take care of Ginny."

A very short moment later the entry hall to the house of Black felt a lot more crowded, as the Weasley matriarch appeared through the Floo. "Happy birthday, Harry, dear," she said before turning all her attention to her kids.

"She just plays around doing dangerous underage magic all the time. She behaves like a scarlet woman and she doesn't obey me at all," Ron explained.

Molly turned to her daughter. "Ginny, go and pack right now. We're going home. You haven't been home in far too long and there's a lot to be done."

Ginny looked at her mother, appalled. "I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Do you think I'm going to waste the rest of the summer degnoming the yard and washing dishes by hand, under your apron? I'm here to prepare myself for the war that's raging out there, and I'm doing well! You can put your head in the sand all you want, but _I_ won't help you with your pretty illusion any more."

"You'll learn how to treat your elders, young lady," Molly censored her, and pointed her wand at her daughter. "_Scourgify_," she said, and soon soap foam started coming out of Ginny's mouth and tears of humiliation filled her eyes.

Ron just chuckled softly.

"_Finite_," said Fleur to stop Ginny's humiliation. She came to stand beside her and hugged her for comfort.

Emma looked at the goings-on with astonishment and a little bit of horror. "Is that the way you treat your children? No wonder Ron called on you as a punishment for his sister," she remarked in a dry, even tone, the exact tone that Dan knew was an indication that she was furious.

"I didn't ask your advice about raising children, Muggle," Molly snarled.

This was too much. "**Silence!**" Harry shouted to quiet the room around him, and then turned to Molly, taking the house's key out of his pocket. "Molly, you are not welcome here any more," he said simply. "You have one minute to go before I change the wards accordingly. Ron." He turned to his friend. "You have one day do decide who you are, what you want here, and just who your friends are before I do the same to you." He went and stood in front of Ginny, who looked up at him with teary eyes. "You're welcome here for as long as you want, and no one will force you out nor take you away. Now will you go up to your room and prepare? We have a dinner reservation for about an hour from now."

Ginny flashed a weak smile and rushed upstairs with her shopping, and Fleur followed her to help.

"Ginny!"

Molly looked at her daughter as she disappeared up the stairs. Then she noticed Harry looking at her with cold eyes, holding up a large decorated key in his hand. She huffed and reluctantly Flooed back to the Burrow.

"Well, the show is over," said Dan. "Nothing to see here any more," he added and went out toward the living room.

Soon the only ones left in the hall were Ron and Bill.

"Just don't say I didn't give you an honest warning," Bill said, and he left Ron standing all alone in the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dinner was a lovely affair. It wasn't the fanciest of restaurants; Harry told Dan that Ginny and he probably wouldn't feel at ease in a place like that. Instead, Dan recommended a good and popular restaurant, bistro style, which offered traditional French cuisine in a casual atmosphere.

Tables were scattered over two spacious and moderately lit dining rooms and were distanced from each other for the sake of the guests' privacy. Colours were soft and bright to make the atmosphere cheerful, but restrained and quite posh without being pretentious. They were seated in a corner table for three. Since neither of them knew anything about French cuisine, they took Dan's recommendation to heart, one Fleur agreed with wholeheartedly, and asked for the head waiter's recommendations. After a short conversation regarding the type of food that they liked and those that they didn't, and a delicate inquiry regarding their budget, he suggested a menu for the evening, and so far they were not disappointed. The restaurant's crew worked around the place with quiet assurance and efficiency. All their needs were tended without disturbance and without their needing to ever ask for anything at all. Their water and soft drink glasses were always kept more than half full. They didn't order a bottle of wine since neither of them was accustomed to drinking it, nor did they want to chance getting drunk. Instead they asked for a single glass each, recommended for them by the restaurant's wine steward without the issue of their ages ever coming up. Instead, they got the feeling that the crew was supportive and approving of their self restraint. The wine steward seemed to notice their lack of familiarity with the world of wines and was happy to introduce them to it with the appropriate choice for their meals; he surprised them with the offer of small glasses of a drink he called Pastis, as a courtesy of the house, before their meals started. It was a whitish anise-flavoured drink that reminded Ginny of digestive potions but surprisingly heightened the flavour of their food.

Ginny was impressed. "Is this the way Muggles eat?"

Harry smiled softly, remembering dinners at the Dursleys'. "No, Ginny, it's too expensive to eat out in a restaurant every day, certainly in one as good as this. This is something for special occasions. I hope for the sake of Muggles everywhere that dinners at the Dursleys' weren't typical either. The Granger home was probably a better example. Only the richest of families have someone to wait on them at home, for a start. Most people prepare their own food and take it to the table themselves. Then too, the food here is truly wonderful. Most people do with much simpler food at home since they can't cook that well and wouldn't have the time to do so even if they knew how. Think about the time your mother spends in the kitchen every day—and she has magic to do most of her work for her."

"My dear mother is the last person I want to think about right now," Ginny growled in a low voice. "Or maybe second to last," she added after a moment's thought.

"She does love you, you know."

"Let's not ruin the mood—let's speak about something else! I have a present for you."

"You didn't have to do that," Harry remarked softly.

"No, I didn't. I _wanted_ to," she answered. "Actually, I have two presents for you," she said, "but one is a present that Emma and I helped you buy for yourself." She took two small paper bags from her pocket and handed them to him over the table. "I really like the way Muggles wrap their shopping and presents, you know?"

"Yep, much better than the brown paper wizards use," he agreed as he opened the first package to find a lovely silk tie in colours that could just pass as a Gryffindor tie. "This is lovely!"

"You're welcome," she smiled. "We found it in a menswear shop downtown. Don't be surprised if Emma finds a way to drag both you and Dan there sometime soon."

Harry smiled at the thought.

"That one is from me," she said as Harry opened the second package. She looked at him a bit nervously. "It isn't much," she added.

There inside the colourful wrapping, in a simple but styled plastic box, laid a small plastic watch. "Swatch" it read clearly on the cover. It was in white and light blue, and all over the watch face and around the bend were drawings of sheep – all white except for one which was black.

"I thought it was a bit like you," she said in a low voice, biting her lip.

"This is so lovely!" he said, to Ginny's great relief. "Let me put it on right away." He put the watch on and looked at it happily. Then he got to his feet, walked around the table, and hugged Ginny. For a moment he looked her in the eyes and then laid a soft, careful kiss on her lips.

She hugged him back, then sat down. "Which leads us to the next subject of the evening," she said softly.

"I don't know what to say. I do know that I owe you an explanation," he said. "And an apology too," he added as an afterthought.

"Maybe I should start."

Harry shrugged and nodded.

"You know I had this huge crush on you since—well, since forever, to be truthful about it. I think that as a child I fell in love with the hero who killed the mean monster, the way little girls fall in love with Prince Charming. Sadly, I've found out that my prince was a real boy and a good friend of my brother's. It took me four more years to get over my childish crush on you and start treating you like a real person. The fact that I owe you a life debt wasn't helpful at all."

"You don't owe me anything," Harry objected softly.

"That's not true, Harry. Magical life debts change you, they change your soul. I've tried to treat you normally for the last couple of years—not as a hero, not as my saviour, just as a very good friend, which you truly are. I have very few friends, you know. Luna, Hermione, —that's about it. In a way you're my best friend, since you've never treated me as anything but a whole person. Actually, Luna has always done the same, but she does it in _her_ special way."

"She sure has a special way," Harry agreed.

"Then last year, when you wanted us to be more than friends, I felt like I was living in a legend, but that was the problem. You're not Prince Charming, I'm not a princess, and we don't live in Avalon. I couldn't be your girlfriend and still treat you like the good friend you are, and like a real person."

Their conversation was interrupted for a moment while the waiters cleared their table and offered them coffee and dessert. Their teapot arrived at the table moments later; tea was poured, their chosen desserts served, and they were free once more to continue their conversation.

"I think that in some strange way I felt the same," Harry said slowly. "For a year I wanted our relationship to become more than it was, and when it did, I felt like I'd lost something."

"In some way, you've lost _me_. It took me almost a month to see through the pink haze and understand what was happening. Then it took me another month to find the courage to confront you about it, and just as I thought I had, you broke up with me, for all the wrong reasons."

Harry chuckled softly. "I _am_ a clueless boy, after all."

"So, friends?"

"The very, very best," he answered.

They paid the bill, thanked the staff (with a very nice tip), and went out into the night. They walked into a nearby garden. It was about midnight and they didn't want the night to end yet.

"Would you like to finish the night at the cinema?"

"Anything you like. It's your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way," she added, taking a glance at her watch. "Can I ask one thing first? I want to kiss Prince Charming one last time."

Harry turned to her and lowered his lips to hers for a last tender kiss.

"Do you know that you have the softest lips in the world?"

Ginny chuckled softly. "One day you're going to kiss a girl you truly love and change your mind about that, but thanks."

Just then, Harry stumbled as he experienced a piercing headache. A few seconds later, the restaurant across the street, which they had just left, exploded, shaking both of them off their feet.

It took Harry a long moment to regain control over his senses. Then he took out his wand and tried to run back to the restaurant. He was stopped by Ginny before he could cross the garden.

"Harry, you've got to stop and think! You can't do magic here, and you're no good for them without it."

In the distance they could hear police and fire brigades sirens approaching. "Leave it to the Muggles," she said. "They'll do a good job."

His headache came back with a vengeance. He stumbled to a seat on a garden bench. "It's him," he said in a trembling voice. "His birthday present for me," he added with revulsion. "He apologises for being too late." After another moment Harry seemed to gather his concentration and close his eyes. For a very long moment he did nothing. When he reopened his eyes, his whole posture changed. His angst disappeared, leaving cold, harsh fury behind.

"Can you Apparate back home?"

Ginny nodded.

"Then do so," he said. "I'll be there in a few minutes," he added and disappeared without a sound.

Harry had no idea at all if his idea would work. He'd performed no tests and made no plans. When the world faded in around him, he found himself standing at the side of a dark throne room, looking at a group of people in dark attire laughing meanly. _How cliché__d_, he thought to himself before making his move.

"**Excuse me?**" he said, his voice reverberating through the room over the men's voices. "Hi, Tommy," he added in a cheerful voice as the room become quiet as a grave. "Next time, when you need me just call me and I'll pop in," he said. Harry sent a curse into the head of the nearest Death Eater and looked at the arc of sickening green magic heading his way before he pressed the button and the throne room faded away. He faded into the Blacks' living room and immediately fell to his knees, screaming in pain and holding his hand over his bleeding scar. He hardly noticed the people around him running to help him to the large sofa. Harry passed the first two hours of his seventeenth birthday fighting his pain, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

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"Damn, I liked this outfit!"

Uma stood up from behind the ruins of the table, looking down at her shredded jacket. She wanted to enjoy her dessert too. The explosion almost caught her by surprise.

On the other side of the ruined room stood a beautiful young lady dressed in dark Goth clothing, which was a bit of a cliché. She stood over the body of a young waiter.

"I didn't plan on seeing you today,"

The young woman nodded and smiled. "I had work here," she replied.

"I tried, but I'm not _me_ any more."

"It was his time. Some people are destined to be innocent bystanders."

"I miss your brother."

"We all miss him. He was too set in his ways and had to go. It was _his_ time."

"Until next time, then. Say hello to the family."

The woman nodded, smiled again cheerfully, and went out the door, leaving Uma standing and looking down at the body of the young waiter. "I'm still sorry," she whispered to herself.

Uma listened to the now clear sounds of sirens and looked at the shaken people around her, who were saying "miracle" over and over. Then a soft smile came to her face. She liked that redheaded girl. She was all wrong for Harry, but she would be formidable when she came into her own. Maybe she could do something nice for her too...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_What a wonderful morning!_ I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but the feeling of the lightening of the darkness that you can see when your eyes are closed is one of the most amazing moments of the day. The combination of light and warmth coming from my open bedroom window were a promise of a truly lovely day. _Wish I could stay right here with my eyes closed for the rest of it_. I did it once, you know—I love following the images you can see on the back of your eyelids when you keep your closed eyes against the light for a while.

No! Need to get up, get dressed, get a little something to eat, and then get working on my body, magic and mind. The first part I don't mind, the second is mostly fun. The third is what I want to actually do with my life. Freshen up, then—

A wave of my wand took the sleep away, another freshened me up. Once I slept over at Ginny's and had to do it all by hand. I just can't understand the Weasleys sometimes. Ginny had nothing to do with it, of course. Neither did her young brothers. It was her parents that I just couldn't understand. Who lives in a magical home without magic? And for that matter, what was this obsession with the poor gnomes? Ever since then I took special care to visit Ginny in daytime only and didn't stay over if I could avoid it. Not that my home was quirk-free.

The kitchen table was already covered with a _very _diverse breakfast.

"Morning, Dad!"

As usual, there was no answer at all.

"Dad!"

I smiled softly and went around the table to take his newspaper away from him. "Good morning, Dad," I said to him, smiling.

"Oh, morning, yes—_good_ morning. I was so engrossed with the _Prophet_ that I didn't notice you entering the room. Had a good night's sleep?"

"Wonderful night. I was speaking with Mum."

"Did she have anything interesting to say, or was it just female gossip?"

"She asked me to make sure you're having healthy breakfasts." I said, looking pointedly at his plate. This morning he was having hard-boiled eggs, white, low-fat, soft cheese, and some tomatoes and cucumbers and olives. I can't even begin to imagine where he got the taste for that kind of breakfast. I kissed him on his cheek and went on to gather some breakfast for myself too. "Anything interesting foretold in the _Prophet_?"

"Are you asking seriously? Sometimes I'm not even sure the _Prophet_'s editors live in the same world as us, I can tell you, never mind the same country."

"What did they do now?" I asked.

"They've wasted their whole front page with a story about a group of punks disturbing the Longbottoms. Your friend Potter was there too, it appears. He managed to catch himself a Dementor. I wonder what he's going to do with it. It won't eat much, but it's not very cuddly for a pet, do you think?"

"Was anybody hurt?

"A couple of Muggles, it appears. The Dementor managed to draw one's soul, but the other will be all right in a couple of days."

I let go of the breath when I heard that. Strange, I hadn't noticed that I was holding it.

"Here—have a look!"

_**Dementors At Night**_

_**A group of civilians, led by newly appointed Senior Auror Nymphadora Tonks fought off an attack by a Dementor on the old manor house of the Longbottom family. Also in attendance was Mr. Harry Potter, young head of the Potter house. The **_**Prophet**_** was informed that all members of the Longbottom house are accounted for and well. As far as the **_**Prophet**_** was able to discover, Mr. Potter used the Patronus charm to chase and enclose the attacking Dementor. Senior Auror Kleio Rickard, who was coordinating the Ministry effort **__**at**__** the scene, remarked that there **__**have been**__** no reports of Dementor imprisonment in the last two centuries.**_

_**In response to the **_**Prophet**_**'s inquiry, Minister Scrimgeour stated that due to the efforts **__**of**__** Mr. Potter and Senior Auror Tonks, the wizarding and general public is now safe from the danger presented by the rogue Dementor. The Minister informed the **_**Prophet**_** that the Dementor was transferred into the hold of the Department of Mysteries for further studies. The Minister further remarked that the Ministry sees the incident as proof that he made the right choice **__**in **__**promoting young Auror Tonks into the position of Senior Auror and entrusting her with the training and leadership of a new squad of Aurors. **_

_**We at the **_**Prophet**_** gladly join **__**the Minister in extending **__**our congratulations to the young Senior Auror. **__**Our s**__**ister magazine **_**Play Wizard**_** will run a special photographed interview with the newly appointed Senior Auror, who **__**has **__**raised the interest of so many of our readers. **_

_Tonks is certain to like that,_ I thought, smiling as several possible responses came to my mind. I think I'm going to like it. I'll just have to find a way to be at the _Prophet_'s offices when she visits them next.

"Utter rubbish as always," I reassured Pop. "When did _you_ put the paper to bed last night?"

"'Bout midnight," he said, looking interestedly at the paper-rug in front of him.

"What did the Cuckoo show 'bout midnight', then?"

"'Bout half three."

"Keep an eye on your dad for me," Mum has said to me so many times since she died. "See that he sleeps, try to make him eat more than he drinks, and please keep an eye on his work whenever you fail to do the former." I really do my best—well, I do try...

"What did you put on the front page?"

"Pushmi-pullyu," he said in between bites. "Allan just came back from central Africa with those wonderful pictures. I just _had_ to give it its due place." Saying that, he took out an envelope and tossed it to me. Inside were a couple of blurry magical photos, taken from a very long distance, of what looked like a pair of antelopes standing side by side, facing in opposing directions, eating grass. The angle from which the photos were taken showed only the head of the more distant animal.

"Where did you hear of this wonderful animal?" I asked. Later on I'd have to have a quiet word with Allan. I don't mind him taking Father's money, same as I don't mind Father taking his readers' money, but this was just ridiculous.

"I'm not really sure," he said with a full mouth. "I think I read something about it in a book about a Muggle doctor long time ago. These Muggles sometimes stumble onto the most incredible creatures."

I nodded silently, taking another sip of my usual spinach-juice breakfast. "Anything else of interest in the _Quibbler_?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing to compete with these amazing creatures. The usual, you know—Dark conspiracies in the Ministry, incompetence at St. Mungo's, and sighting of a god in London. This last one might be interesting—it's the first god sighting in a very long time, but it's a bit skimpy on details. I think I'll send Allen to London to try to get some pictures for me. Then I'll be able to run it as a cover story."

"I think I'll have something for tomorrow's paper by the evening, Dad."

"Oh, from that lovely man of yours?"

"From Harry, yes. He is lovely, and a man, but he's not mine and I don't think he will ever be," I answered. These ideas must be nipped in the bud. I don't need _that_ story printed in the _Quibbler_, do I? "There's another man I just might try to make mine, if you insist on knowing," I added. You should always try to preserve the mystery with my dad. It keeps him away from the truth.

"Is it that young Ronald, the neighbour's son?"

"Merlin, Daddy, no! I got over _him_ ages ago. I just don't know what I was thinking!" _Probably not thinking at all_, I answered myself in my mind.

"Good, good! I just hope this mysterious young man has a little deeper intellect."

"Oh, Ronald isn't stupid, Dad. He's just too lazy to put his mind to anything useful, never mind thinking about what he's about to say, a moment _before_ he says it..."

"Well, have a good day."

"You too, Daddy. Try to get some sleep, and _please_ try to stick with coffee and pumpkin juice—until noon at the least."

"My own daughter!" he said in cute mock-hurt. "I haven't had more than a thimbleful past my lips since yesterday morning, I'll have you know, and may lightning strike me here and now if I'm lying!"

"I know your thimble, daddy," I answered, smiling. We've had this "talk" almost every morning since Mum died. "You must have received it from Hagrid's mum," I added and went back to my room to get ready for the day. Walking up the stairs, I could hear Dad's incoherent mumbling, which sounded suspiciously like "No shame, no shame at all!"

_No reason to be ashamed,_ I thought to myself as I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself in my new Dragon-hide armour suit. Dad took me once to a beach in the south of France to look for the legendary Leviathan in the Mediterranean Sea. We didn't find any Leviathan back then, but I remember the surfers. They were wearing those long full-body suits which hugged their bodies and left very little to my young and capable imagination. Dragon-hide armour was a little like that, but thinner and lighter. Sometimes Dragon-hide amazes me; I can understand its being spell-repellent, since it's so inherently magical, but it looks like you can poke a hole through it with a toothpick.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror and hummed to myself, smiling. I was certainly no Fleur, but otherwise I had nothing to be ashamed of, and my body was in better shape than all of the others except for Hermione, though Ginny and Su were catching up nicely.

I kept humming contentedly until I noticed what I was humming.

_Sod __it__! Not that cursed song again!_ I'd been stuck with it for a year now and couldn't get it out of my poor mind. Well, _Weasley_ was certainly not _my_ king; one has to admit, though, that the Slytherins are more capable in their song-writing than one would expect. What did I ever see in that guy? Even if he does have that nice arse of his. Nothing in comparison to Neville's, of course. I like running behind him when he wears his tights, and looking without him noticing. Maybe today I'll run just in front of him and make _him_ notice, for a change.

With a smile, I slipped my wand into the appropriate holster on the armour's left sleeve. It had so many built-in holsters—one in each sleeve, one on the inside of each leg, one on each hip—and my favourite, the one over the small of my back. Shorts and jersey (that young Beckham had a very nice arse too), trainers—I took one last look in the mirror, pulled on my robes on top of it all, and Disapparated.

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"Last night wasn't all fun and games?"

Neville gave me a look which meant, "Did you have to bring that up again?"

"No, then?"

"It wasn't fun for anyone, I think, and luckily that includes the Death Eaters. I just know they're going to come after Gran and me for vengeance."

"Gran?"

"Yep. Somehow, something changed last night."

"You're going into hiding?"

"I'm mostly hiding anyway. Gran refuses. She said she's openly opposed You-Know-Who ever since he came along and she isn't going to change now. Then she said that if all those who opposed him, from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, went into hiding, he would be certain to win. I can't fault her logic, but it doesn't make me feel better."

I nodded and took his hand to comfort him, a bit surprised at myself. Last year I could never have done that. Good thing, too, since last year it would have been Ronald's hand… for a moment I felt a shudder run down my spine. Neville felt it too.

"Are you all right?" he said, looking at me curiously.

He's _so_ sweet! He worries about **me**! "Certainly, Neville. Just wee bit nippy."

Actually, I can understand him completely. It's the same with me and Pop lately. A couple of years ago we had the best hiding place. No one was interested in our "loony" family, but ever since I became Harry's friend and Dad made the _Quibbler_ Harry's voice we had become very interesting targets. I've put our home under the Fidelius, but Pop is usually at work all night and has no concept of security.

"Well, have a wonderful day. I'm going to play with Ginny upstairs."

Ginny disappeared from our company as soon as Harry and Bill managed to shut Ronald up, not that I can't understand her. What a horrible family. I used to envy her, you know. She seemed to have this loving family and all those brothers to help her, or so I thought. And she had her _mother_ to love her and to take care of her. I know so much better now! A loving family—ha! Every one of them had to fight for his own survival, to find his own place.

Bill had it relatively easy, I think. He is a fairly powerful wizard, and quite brilliant in his upper storey. He was also the first of the Weasley offspring, so he had less working against him. They had more money to support him too, back then.

Charlie had it worse. He actually had to give up a professional, probably international Quidditch career to run away from _her_. Actually, as far as I could learn from the Weasley kids, he never had a chance at that career. Molly had it all figured out for him: he was going to be a secretary in the Ministry. She didn't even let him watch Quidditch games. Finally he just chose his place in life by how much distance there was between his place of work and the Burrow. He wasn't good enough academically to go to Egypt like his brother, so he had to make do with Romania and the Dragons.

Percy was Molly's star—Prefect, Head Boy, academic wonder; he went straight from school into a promising position in the Ministry, only to discover that, in order to succeed, he needed not only to fight his siblings at home but to avoid being associated with the "Weasley clan". Ginny didn't talk to me for a week when I suggested that Percy deserved better support from the other Weasley kids. Sure, he was a stuck-up quill-pusher, and so overwhelmed with Ministry politics that for a while he couldn't see what was going on right under his nose, but the fact that the Director found Dragon droppings there - under his nose—droppings which had been sent to him by his own brothers—wasn't helping at all. I'm not a bit surprised that he didn't want to be called "Weasley" at work. I'm sure his father's image at the Ministry gives Percy no incentive to be associated with him, but we'll get to that later.

The twins are _The Twins_. I have nothing to say about them but the fact that they are brilliant and hilarious; but they, too, never lifted a finger to help their sibling.

Then there's was Ronald. Where his older brothers fought with everything they had to break free and build a life outside the sphere of their family's doubtful influence, Ronald did nothing but grumble and whine, and allow jealousy to fester in him. Yes, and he did try to stress the fact that he wasn't the last, nor the least of the Weasleys.

The last he wasn't. But the least?

Ronald took special care to remind Ginny at every opportunity that _she_ was the baby Weasley, not to mention a girl, and had nothing to do with the "old boys". She was so desperate for a listening ear by the time she came to Hogwarts that she ended up "corresponding" with Riddle. After a whole year, alone at home with Molly, I too would have been ready to correspond with anyone willing to listen.

Ginny is the most a Weasley can aspire to be. First, she is a seventh-born, which makes her special. Then she had six older brothers from whose mistakes to learn, and learn she did. She is as beautiful and friendly and easy-going as she can be—so much so that people tend to forget there is a lot of wisdom behind her smile, certainly a lot of magic behind her wand, and an inner resolve made of steel. Hell, she fought Tom out of her mind once! I know of only two others who have ever done the same. If only she'd had someone to talk to and ask for help back then.

Sadly, I wasn't there for her. Sure, I have my excuses. I had a very hard time when I came to school. I was "Loony" from the minute my year- and Housemates first saw me; I can't even tell why. Maybe it was my father and the _Quibbler_. It is quite ridiculous at times. I can still remember the time when Dad did a special edition stating that the Ministry helps the Muggles breed eagles and demons to turn them into transportation birds.

"What's so funny?"

Oh, Su was just behind me. "Nothing, Su. I was just thinking about Aerogusions."

I watched as a quizzical look came to Su's face. She was obviously trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound rude, then reconsidered, shrugged and said, "Great, Luna. Have a nice day," as she turned around and walked toward Remus, shaking her head.

Damn! I had no reason at all to do that. Am I so set in my ways that I can't stop being "Loony" by now?

Was it the necklace of butterbeer corks? It _is_ a strange thing to wear, I admit, but it was the last thing Mum did with me. It took me almost a year to fully become "Loony Lovegood"—sure, I know they call me "Loony" behind my back. Some, I thought, looking at Ronald, don't even wait for me to turn my back. I've always been a bit standoffish; I just had to build on that a little, and my father's paper gave me plenty of material to work with. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks? Wherever did he come up with that one? And to think that it turned out to be a real beast! Developing thick skin was harder. I'm still working on that one.

"Are you going to try the thing we talked about?"

Hermione raised her eyes and smiled widely when she saw me. At least _she's_ flexible enough to see past first impressions and public opinion. This is actually unfair of me. Hermione has never bowed to the public ideas of right and wrong, nor to common points of view, but I must admit to being surprised when she admitted her mistake and asked for my forgiveness. Hermione is really nice, you know. She was never mean to me, nor to anyone else at school. Well, she did hit Malfoy in the face once, but in his case it was better than he deserved. She's never approved of my "Loonyness", but considering that most of what I used to say was utter bollocks...

"Do you think we're ready?"

That again. If we waited until Hermione thought we were ready, we'd all be doomed to wait forever. "We have nothing to be ready for. Just ask him to do something weird and we'll see what happens."

Hermione looked at me and nodded. "I'll take him to the training room as soon as he cools down a little. We don't need him to blow up the room, do we?"

She does have a devious side, our studious girl.

"Right, I'll go play with Ginny and wait for you there."

Upstairs, Ginny was busying her self with sending Reductos at a target that had Ronald's face printed on it. Her accuracy marks were higher than ever. I watched her for a couple of minutes; then, not wanting to fall behind in our little friendly game, I pointed at my target to print an image of an unidentifiable creature and started sending some magic at it. I doubt that I stand a chance this morning, though. Emotions are an important part of our magic, even though they tend to make our magic unpredictable. I use a charm that causes roses to grow on the face of whoever is hit by it. I'm not sure it would be that effective in battle, but the charm's magic has a nice lavender-lime tint to it.

Some fifteen minutes later Hermione entered the training room with Harry and all of the others in tow. Ow, yes! Let the games begin! Right, you don't know what it's all about. Please let me explain so you'll be able to enjoy the show.

A few days ago, Hermione hit, by chance, on the right book. Some will argue that there's no such thing as a "wrong" book for our dear, lovely Hermione, and they would be mostly correct, but this specific book—

We were browsing the Ravenclaw library, looking especially for books about ancient magic and politics and specifically books by the founders of Hogwarts. It was then that Hermione came upon a book that goes by the name _The Essence of Magic_. The book was written by Helga Hufflepuff. Now, most modern wizards—and I use the word "modern" loosely—believe that Rowena Ravenclaw was the studious one among the founders. Hermione and I, after days of reading, discovered that the real scholar among the founders was Ms. Hufflepuff. Not only that, but she was also the magically strongest of the four, and the only one who had any kind of reasonable money to her name. Helga asked Rowena Ravenclaw to be her partner since Rowena was her best friend; Lord Slytherin, because she was in love with him and he had contacts with the royal family and was able to acquire the land for them; and Gryffindor was invited since it was easier to work _with_ the ponce than work their way _around_ him. That, and that Rowena had found him to be fanciable, with his sword and hat, at the time.

Where was I? Yes. That book was _right_ for Hermione since it taught her two important lessons. The first lesson was that not everything written in the last edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ was Merlin's spoken words. The more important lesson was that it was Helga's opinion that the "rules" of magic were made to be bent. Helga Hufflepuff was an immensely capable (she had issues with the term "powerful", but we couldn't understand what they were) witch and was self-educated. As such she came to discover that she had ways to get around a few of the "rules" that the others saw as immutable. The book Hermione had found contained Helga Hufflepuff's research into ways to bend or bypass what we usually call "The Basic Rules of Magic". According to her research, she was at least partly successful.

Hermione and I talked about it for two days and tried to recreate Hufflepuff's experiments, with no success at all. I am ashamed to admit that I thought we simply were not powerful—sorry—_capable_ enough. Hermione, bless her, didn't agree with me. She was of the opinion that we failed since we were too set in our ways. I told you that the book did her good. A few days ago, the old Hermione would have said we were unsuccessful in bending the rules because one _can't_ bend the rules of magic. This new and improved Hermione was certain that the only limiting factor was the wizard's beliefs. Isn't she amazing? I thought about it for a long moment and when I looked at her I saw the gleam in her eyes.

"I think I have just the right clueless wizard to test this theory on," she said.

Looking at Harry conjuring silver and gold was interesting. I almost felt—excited! Imagine that. I had to see to it that Remus kept quiet during the process. He almost ruined our innocent guinea-pig. What is it with men that they have to state the obvious at every possible opportunity? I find it much more important and interesting to state the unexpected, but I guess you already know that.

All that excitement almost made me forget about the little power competition that our resident wise-arse had got us into. I had a feeling he was in for a nasty surprise.

Going back down to the living room, I found Hermione sitting with her parents, listening to their conversation with a small smile on her lips as if she was amusing herself with a personal joke. She's becoming _my_ kind of girl.

"Calling it a night?" she asked.

"Yep, need to see that my father puts the paper to bed at a reasonable time, and then put _him_ to bed before morning light."

"The paper! I forgot to ask you—did you tell your father the information you found out about the Snorkacks?"

"Of course, Hermione. The very day we found out about it."

"What did he say?"

"He told me he was happy that the case was closed, then."

"That's all? Isn't he going to publish anything about it?"

"Nooo! Father thinks our readers are interested in mysteries, not in solved ex-mysteries."

It was clear that she wanted to say something about it. Then she apparently changed her mind. She's been so sweet lately, trying so hard to be supportive toward me. Hey, right now she'd probably swallow anything I fed her.

"Did you see this morning's _Quibbler_?" I asked in the most innocent voice I could muster.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head.

"We had a new headline feature," I told her and summoned the paper to her, folded to the head story.

She looked at the _Quibbler_ front-page story for a very, _very_ long moment, while trying feverishly to find something to say. I just sat there and looked at her with the most impassive expression I could muster.

"Pushmi-pullyu?" she asked cautiously.

"Yep," I answered cheerfully. "I just wish we could have got better pictures."

_This is just mean,_ I thought to myself as I watched Hermione struggling for something to say that couldn't be perceived as offensive.

"You do know—" she started, but stopped after further reflection.

"You were saying?"

"Sorry?" she said absent-mindedly as she took another look at the unfocused picture on the front page of the _Quibbler_. "Oh, nothing, Luna. Have a nice evening."

"Oh, thank you, Hermione. You, too!" I said, with my trademark dreamy smile, nodded to her parents, and went into the Floo. Sometimes, that dreamy smile is the only thing preventing me from bursting into laughter.

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"So as soon I'm out of the way you all stand in a row and take measurements? And here I was thinking that most of you were girls, with your brains up in your heads and not between your legs."

Tonks was always the sharp one, even when she dabbled as a slave driver. This morning we gave her special ammunition.

"Tell me—what were the results? Tell me, tell me!"

She played that excited-girl role so well that sometimes you forgot what an accomplished witch she was. That, her choice of hair colour, and her clothes made it _so_ easy to underestimate the woman, didn't they?

Remus chuckled softly and hugged his playful girlfriend. "I believe you can guess just who was best."

In the blink of an eye, her playful demeanour disappeared. "How good was he?" she asked.

"We don't really know," I answered. "He was off every chart we managed to set," I said. "Did Remus tell you the interesting part?"

"Interesting?"

Remus twisted under Tonks' gaze for a moment, then mumbled something under his breath.

"What was it, dear?" She looked at her boyfriend with a coy smile that didn't fool him for a second.

"He conjured silver and gold," Remus mumbled again, more clearly.

"Harry conju—"

Tonks' imitation of a fish was really one of the best I had ever seen. The difference was in the eyes. Most people did theirs with something of a stupid look in the eyes, telling us that they were clueless about what was happening around them. Tonks can't do stupid, which testified to her genuine amazement.

"Do you know the curse that conjures and sends metal darts?"

Tonks nodded at Hermione. "It's useful since it requires a different shield spell than most other curses."

"Apparently it's useful against werewolves too," Remus remarked in a weary tone.

Tonks didn't look any wiser, so I offered her the complete explanation. "Hermione told Harry that she'd tried the curse but couldn't control what metal the darts were made of." _As if_, I thought to myself. "She asked Harry to demonstrate a few different metals for her. He struggled a little but managed to produce silver and gold darts. It was quite impressive, actually. The struggle, I mean."

"Anything else?" she asked in a sarcastic tone. "Did you made the world turn the other way around?"

"Oh, nothing flashy like that," Hermione remarked lightly. I love it when she does that. She knows she has shocking news, so she behaves like everything is completely normal to throw everyone else off balance.

"So? What _did_ you do?"

"We made Harry track his magic."

I didn't think Tonks understood what she meant, as she looked just plain confused. Looking around I noticed that Hermione seemed to be the only one who had a clue as to what I was talking about. It wasn't surprising; she did that advanced target training exactly for that reason.

"Harry made his magic track a target," Hermione explained. "Did you notice how he made the magic arc to keep hitting a target even after he went for cover?"

Tonks nodded.

"Hermione and I thought he could do better."

Hermione smiled at me brightly. You know, it's nice to have friends.

"I made him do the same drill again, only using three targets instead of one. I also made the targets move faster and cast Stunners at him."

"How did you do that?" Tonks interrupted her explanation.

"Oh, nothing fancy, I just passed magic to the targets," she answered. "Anyway, when put under pressure, Harry managed not only to arc his magic but made it keep tracking the target it was hitting even after he was no longer able to see it."

"Yep," I added. "That was about the time he overwhelmed both the room's and your magic, and I had to help you sit."

There was a long silence, since no one had anything else to say.

"How was _your_ day? Did you get your new recruits?"

"Oh, yes!" Tonks exclaimed, her wicked smile returning to her face and turning her hair bright red. "The poor sods are even more hopeless than you girls. I'm going to have _so_ much fun torturing—err—training them."

Remus chuckled softly. "I really feel for the poor guys," he said.

"How were the rest of the marks?"

"Surprisingly good, actually. Second best was Neville. His mark was a bit over the normal scale too. I think he was the one who was most surprised by that fact. Lovely Hermione here was very close behind—again, a bit over the normal scales."

Hermione beamed happily at Bill as he said that, and it was clear that she was quite proud of herself but was trying her best not to show it.

"Sis and Luna here were next best and are very powerful witches indeed. Fleur and Remus came in a bit above average. I came in about average, Su a little below. And my dear younger brother proved that he's a true Weasley. He wasn't at all happy about it, I can tell you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Bill said, a bit embarrassed, "we Weasleys are known for not being the strongest of wizards out there. Actually, in the last three generations there have only been two exceptions—Ginny, who is a seventh child and couldn't avoid being an exceptional witch; in fact, she would have been so even if she'd been born to a family of Muggles. The other one, surprisingly enough, is me. I have no explanation for it, not that I'm complaining."

"So, what are we going to do with boy wonder today?" asked Tonks, trying to change the subject.

"Don't you worry, my dear; I have enough ideas to last us for years."

"Talking about anything interesting?"

An awkward silence fell on us as most of us looked for something to say. Most, but Hermione. "We were, actually," she said, and waved her wand in the approximate direction of her room. Moments later a folded newspaper came flying into her hand. "Did you see yesterday's _Quibbler_?" she asked him, handing Harry the paper which was folded to show the headline story. "Quite interesting," she added, and turned to walk up to the training room with a dreamy smile on her face.

"Err, Hermione?" Harry said as he took a look at the picture and headline.

"Yes, dear?" she asked innocently and kept climbing the stairs.

"Pushmi-pullyu?" he asked his friend's retreating back.

You've just got to love the girl!

"Luna?" I heard Fleur's voice behind me. "You're spending much too much time with Hermione."

I felt a shiver run down my back. "You think so, do you?" I asked her in an even tone. That's the problem with having friends, I thought to myself. You let your guard down, so when they say something like that they can actually hurt you.

"Yep," Tonks added. "You're rubbing off on the poor girl," she said to the laughter of everyone around, and clapped my back amicably.

You know what? I stand corrected—it's wonderful to have friends.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dinner was interrupted by two cracking sounds which made everyone rush for their wands; everyone but Harry and Hermione, that is.

"Hi Fred, hi George," she said in a cheerful voice without raising her head from the book she was reading.

"Right," said George.

"Spoil our fun," Fred added.

"Harry!" they said in unison and sat at both his sides.

"Hi guys," he answered around a mouthful of food, not bothering to stop eating for them. "Hungry?" he asked after a moment of thought.

"We heard a rumour that you're the most powerful wizard since...well, they can't compare you to Merlin since there isn't a corresponding scale."

George nodded in agreement with his brother. "Yes, not like our brother there," he said, pointing at Ronald, who was sitting alone at the end of the table.

"Can you try to behave?" Harry asked, not looking forward to having to deal with a new "Ron issue".

George and Fred exchanged looks. "We don't know," Fred answered.

"Never tried, to be truthful about it."

"So, what's brought you to this dreary Black house?"

"Hey, a sense of humour!"

Harry just kept his impassive stare trained on George. Personally, I found that George and Fred tended to overdo their eccentrics. Then again, they did make it into a profession and a source of income. Maybe, in that case, one can't go too far. Look at my father, for example—not that he is a decent example of anything, but his eccentrics were undeniable and he did make his income out of them. In that regard Fred and George were much more focused and dedicated, and I daresay they will probably make much more money than dear Daddy.

Dispirited by the lack of enthusiasm shown toward him and his brother, Fred moved on. "We have a few things to show you girls. Can we go somewhere quieter?"

"Library, then?

Fred and George Disapparated with a loud noise, taking care not to Disapparate simultaneously, to make sure they produced even more noise. Hermione smiled softly from her seat and used her serviette to clean her mouth politely, not that there was any need for that. She smiled softly at me, tilted her head in invitation, and Disapparated after them with a whisper.

"Show-offs," I heard Harry mumble under his breath, though he looked quite amused. "Remus? Tonks?" He said, then rose from his seat, clapped Mr. Granger on his shoulder in invitation, and followed him out of the kitchen. At the door he turned around to look at Ronald, who was still sitting at the table.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I have a feeling I'm not wanted."

Harry sighed in frustration. "Everyone here has a job to do. What we're going to do now is part of _your_ job, unless you don't want it. Yes, you are very much wanted. Actually, you are quite _needed_. What we don't need are your mood swings, friend."

To my great surprise, Ronald nodded solemnly and rose to follow Harry and Mr. Granger to the library.

I had to admit that I hadn't figured Ronald out completely. Whenever I think I do, he does something to surprise me, though in most cases it is something disappointing. I nodded to the rest of the bunch and Disapparated after them.

Apparation is a bit like snoring. No, it's true! One doesn't know how much noise one is making. Thinking about it, maybe the correlation runs deeper than expected. I have it on good authority that it's very difficult to share a room at night with either Ronald or the Weasley twins. Obviously I didn't know how much noise I made while Apparating. Judging by Ginny, who is usually a good comparison to my capabilities, I Apparate with a cute little popping sound. She's also said that I'm very easy on the ears at night, so there you have it. Now I just needed to spend a night with Harry.—Where the hell did that idea come from?

"We wanted to show you two new fighting tools we were working on, after playing a bit with the computer," George started.

"We decided to concentrate on two elements; one was a long distance weapon and the other was something that could be used without a direct line of sight. In a way, we're trying to develop the magical equivalents of rifles and small bombs, hand grenades, land mines, mortar bombs, and the like.

"We tried to think about improvements to both firepower and rate—equivalents to cannons and machine guns," Fred continued, "but we haven't been able to find a way to separate these aspects from the capabilities of the wizard or witch."

"Yet!" George remarked.

"Yet," Fred agreed.

"What _did_ you do?"

Tonks chuckled softly at the hostile look she received from the brothers.

"This is not the time for retribution, oh brother of mine," said George.

"Right as always," Fred agreed, "and retribution is best served cold."

"Can we move on, friends?"

The twins looked lost for the briefest of moments, then regained their concentration. Strange; I'd never seen them be anything but focused on the task at hand.

"None of this is ready to use, yet."

"Yet!" Fred agreed.

"But it's a good basis to build on." George took out two long poles that looked similar to old-fashioned staffs.

Staffs went out of fashion for two main reasons. The first was advances in the art of wand crafting, which enabled better fusion between the wand's wood and magical heart, thus enabling the wand to channel more magic through it. In the old days, powerful wizards or witches had been _forced_ to use staffs for most of their magic. Nowadays one could do all his magic using a wand. The other reason was that staffs went—there was no other way to say it—out of fashion.

"We made these staffs using modern methods, with the thought of enabling them to channel more magic and turn it into something like a cannon. It didn't work the way we envisioned since we can't think of a source for the excess magic. On the other hand, it does help with better aim. We did a little testing and were able to hit targets from a hundred yards."

George nodded in agreement with his brother. "These are the other items," he said, presenting few small stones that looked like pebbles with runes engraved upon them. "These are small reservoir stones that contain an explosion charm. You can deliver them in any way imaginable: set them to explode at a given time, or on contact, or using any other method. They were quite easy to make since there was nothing new in the magic. This one," he said, taking one of the stones in his hand," is charmed to Stun four seconds after drop-off."

"Shields?" asked Fred, looking around the room. Immediately, everyone had his shield up, and Hermione rushed to hug her father and protect him under her sphere shield. George sent me a questioning look. I smiled softly and he nodded in understanding and dropped the stone to the floor. Four seconds later—well, I don't actually know how much later, because the next thing I knew was that Hermione was crouched near me just after having Ennervated me.

"Are you all right?" she asked me with a soft smile on her face.

"It worked, then?"

"It sure did, you silly girl," she answered and held her hand to me. "Come on, get up."

On the other side of the room Fred was doing the same thing with Ronald. "Don't worry about it, brother. This wasn't a regular Stunner; it goes on until the stone discharges completely. You expected a regular Stunner, so you were surprised by it. I can tell you that George and I still fail sometimes and we _do_ know what to expect. We never test it when we're alone in a room."

"You two are that weak?"

"Weasley treat!" smiled George. "That's why we left training, though we still come for morning runs."

"Yep, that and the fact that between training, learning, and running our shop, we haven't got time to work on new weapons and, worse, new products."

"We really need to make more time!"

"You know we can't do that, Harry," answered Hermione. "It's just too dangerous."

She's so lovely when she truly believes in something, isn't she? "It'll be fine, Harry. Hermione and I will figure out a safe way to make more time."

Harry nodded in understanding. He's much more intelligent than he lets on. "Will you leave some of these for us to 'play' with?" he asked the twins.

"So? No more training for me either?"

Tonks looked at Ronald carefully. "I still want you to do the physical portion. And I believe that it's a good idea for you to keep learning your magic. You need to know how to defend yourself. I don't think it's wise for you to go out on attack missions when we do those, however."

"So—I'm just too weak, am I?"

"Every group of new trainees has about thirty percent who can't do field work. There's no shame in that.

"I don't know if the word 'weak' is appropriate," George remarked.

"Yes," Fred added. "George and I can do all the magic we put our minds to. It has something to do with doing it repeatedly."

Tonks nodded pensively. "Someone from the Department of Mysteries once told me that they'd had ever managed to measure a wizard's true _power_," she said.

"**That's what she meant!**" Hermione clapped her hand to her forehead in an irritated gesture, and disappeared without even a whisper.

"Bloody mental, she is," I said under my breath. The last thing I heard before Disapparating after her was Ronald's soft chuckles.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"It's from professor McGonagall," said Hermione, looking up from reading a note which had been received with the morning mail. "She wants to meet with you and me – today, if possible."

"Today? Did she say what it's about?" Harry was sitting at the kitchen table across from Hermione and was busying himself with stroking the large grey owl who'd brought the said note to his home. It was strange, if one took the time to consider it – a month ago, the only place Harry could imagine being _less_ of a 'home' for him was No. Four Privet Drive. Just went to show you how much perspectives could change and in how short a time.

The large, long-eared owl had wonderfully soft plumage; Harry enjoyed running his hands along its back while feeding it large slices of fried bacon. "What a lovely bird! Very pretty, you are!" he said softly, mostly to himself. "Hey! What?" His day-dreaming was cut short by slaps of impatient wings on his head. Apparently Hedwig had had enough. She glided to his shoulder, taking care to grip Harry a little too hard with her talons, and slapped his head with her wings. "Right! _Right_ You are the loveliest of all owls!" he cried in exasperation. "Here, have some bacon too, love." God save us from envious owls, however pretty, loyal, and intelligent they are.

"No. She just said it was school business," Hermione answered, trying her best not to laugh openly at Harry's effort to stroke both owls _and_ feed them bacon at the same time. Sometimes two hands were just not enough.

Harry took a brief look at the large mantel clock above the hearth. It was just eight in the morning. It was amazing just how much one could achieve, even before the beginning of the day, once he or she was ready to wake up early enough and use the time efficiently. The fact that the morning run no longer left them breathless had its positive effect to that end, too. A month ago, they got out of this hellhole, every morning, for a time of necessary torture, under the hands of Emma and Tonks. Now they left _home_ for a _morning run_ and it made all the difference in the world. Certainly, they still had a lot of work in front of them, and the distance they covered each morning was still growing, but still, it was becoming less of a load and more of a habit with every day passed.

"Would you rather go now or later in the afternoon, after our magical training?"

Hermione looked flustered, in a way; it reminded Harry of their third year. _ That is not a pleasant thought_, he thought to himself.

"I just don't know!" she answered in frustration. "I try my best to use my time fully every single day, but I just can't do it all. Training, both physical and magical, is too important to pass up. I do important research with Luna about magic and wizards. We look into that other subject that is just as important and stressful, and I'm trying – we are all trying to learn new magic to use, every day. Can you tell me what part of it I should waive in order to make the meeting?"

_Yep, just like third year_, he thought. "I think right now will be the best time," he said, trying not to think about Hermione's dilemma. Harry had the feeling there wasn't any 'good' answer here and his best option was to make a decision and stick to it. "Let me just check whether our esteemed Headmistress is a morning person."

Well, the professor, sorry – Headmistress – was certainly a morning person. She was already at her desk, going over piles of parchment and thinking about all the times when Harry had had to use his Invisibility Cloak and proficiency in silencing charms just to avoid her on his regular night strolls in the castle - Harry wasn't sure if the elderly, strict lady slept at all.

"She'll be waiting for us at ten sharp," he told Hermione. Harry considered his options for a moment; then turned to Ron. "Professor McGonagall asked Hermione and me to 'join her for morning tea'. Would you like to come?"

This caught Ron by surprise and, typically, with a mouthful of food. He coughed for a moment on his bite, surprisingly giving himself a moment to consider his option. "Great!" he complained good-naturedly. "Either I go with you and let Professor McGonagall make me feel like an eleven-year-old all over again, or I stay here and make a fool of myself in the training room."

"Don't fret, Weasley," said Hermione, her smile only in her eyes.

Ron chuckled softly. "Right then," he said, "but if she's going to Transfigure someone into a map or a watch, will you be volunteering, _Granger_?"

"In that case, we should probably make sure we're not late for the lesson, shouldn't we?"

"Should we be polite or just _port_ in on time?"

Harry considered their options for a moment, then decided, "Very few people know about the port, and I see no reason to notify them. Let's go the usual way."

An hour and a half later they were walking the long dark corridors of the castle. For five years Harry had felt this old castle was his home, and he was homesick every summer until permitted to come back. Last year he had felt like there was no home for him any more, nor family. He didn't expect to have any, either. Now the old huge castle left him indifferent. Sure, it was beautiful, enchantingly mysterious, and always surprising, but Harry was surprised that he felt neither the warm feeling he used to have whenever he came to Hogwarts nor the haunted feeling he was familiar with from the last couple of years.

They stopped in front of the stone gargoyle and looked at it helplessly.

"Would it help if we tell you that we have an appointment with the Headmistress?" Harry asked with no small trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"At least with Dumbledore we had some idea of what the password was likely to be."

"Actually, I just can't understand a boarding school where a pupil can't have access to the Headmaster, or any of the stuff, not during normal working hours."

"We did fine," Ron answered.

"Maybe we did, mate," Harry remarked, "but we were never your regular students here, and I'm afraid to guess just how many problems have never surfaced because students felt the staff were unapproachable."

"Right, what are we going to do now? Stand here until someone is gracious enough to open the gargoyle?"

"Let's go to the kitchen for a bite."

"Brilliant, Ron," Hermione remarked. "We have a free period – let's go and eat something," she said, mimicking his voice.

Harry chuckled softly. "You come visiting this place and go right back to being twelve?" He paused for a moment, then added, "We don't have time to waste. We do it now, or go back to training. At least _I'm_ going back to training – Dobby?"

The little elf popped into view as if he'd been right there all the time and was just waiting for an excuse to show himself. "What can Dobby do for the great master Potter and his friends?" he said, bowing deeply.

"Please call –" Harry started to say, then stopped. "Sorry," he said, "can you please see if the Headmistress is in her office and ask her to open the –" he hesitated for a second – "gargoyle for us?" he finished.

Dobby disappeared and a moment later the gargoyle jumped aside to invite them to the spiralling stairs and into the office.

"Harry, my boy!" came a voice from behind the office desk. "Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, how delightful," it went on, paying no heed to the grimace on Harry's face, and surprisingly enough also on Headmistress McGonagall's.

"Good morning, Professor. You asked to see us?" Harry nodded to the Headmistress, who was sitting at her desk surrounded by towering piles of parchment. Looking around, Harry noticed that the office had changed a lot since his last visit. The office suddenly looked spacious. All of Dumbledore's trinkets had disappeared, together with their showcases; the many bookcases had been removed except for one, which was filled mostly with what looked like a filing system. The huge telescope was gone from the adjacent room, leaving a place for a nice sitting corner with an amazing view onto Hogwarts Lake and the forbidden forest. He also noted with a pang of sorrow the absence of Fawkes's perch from the large office.

"Yes, I did, Mr Potter," she answered. "Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," she acknowledged. "We are a bit early, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," Harry answered. "We have very demanding days, so we'd appreciate it if you would be kind enough to give us the gargoyle's password the next time you ask us here," he said with just a tad bit of sarcasm in his voice, ignoring Hermione's frown.

"Yes, Mr Potter, I daresay I forgot that detail. I am not used to the quirks of this office yet." She took a few moments to put her work aside, then addressed them again. "I have a few subjects I want to discuss with you, but please let me handle this first," she said, indicating a small chest that stood near her desk. "This was left for you in Headmaster Dumbledore's will. Both the document and portrait insist that you are the only person capable of opening the chest," she said, a trace of a grimace again clouding her face as she mentioned the portrait.

"Would it be harmed by being shrunk?" Harry asked the portrait.

"No, my boy, but maybe..."

Harry pointed his wand at the chest and a few seconds later it was stashed in his pocket. "If we can go on to the reason for our visit, Headmistress? We _are_ on a very tight training schedule."

"Yes, my boy. I have just asked Minerva here to summon you here so I can talk with you about your training."

"Maybe we would be more comfortable in the sitting corner," suggested Headmistress McGonagall, and led them over to the anteroom.

"Permanent sticking charms?"

The stern professor gave her favourite student a hint of a smile. "Luckily, as the Headmistress I know the password. Dilys said that many former headmasters had problems letting go. She said this has something to do with testosterone and suggested a cooling-off period in Myrtle's bathroom. I just can't bring myself to listen to her advice," she said, and added, "yet," after a short reflection. "Tea and biscuits?" she asked while Hermione put a privacy charm on the room entrance.

Soon they went back to the subject of the visit. "I am preparing Hogwarts for the next school year and find myself in need of your help. I need you all, and especially you, Harry," Minerva said, giving him a pointed look, "to confirm your return to school for your last year. I also need you to make that fact public."

The room was silent for a long while as the three friends exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"I'm not sure we'll be able to help you with your request," Hermione finally answered.

"We weren't planning to return," Ron nodded.

Minerva looked shaken. "What do you mean, you 'weren't planning to return'? Where did you all plan to complete your schooling?"

"We weren't planning to," Hermione answered, with tangible sorrow in her voice. "At least not until the end of the war, we didn't" she added.

Minerva was speechless, maybe for the first time in her adult life.

"We have a task to carry out," Harry said softly. "One that can not be deferred to others, nor postponed to some later, more convenient time. If the only price we have to pay for performing this task is the loss of our formal schooling, we'll be lucky indeed."

The silence stretched out as each of them contemplated these words.

"If you did not plan to come back to Hogwarts this year, why did you care to intervene in the election of the new headmaster?" Minerva finally asked.

"We fight a war for the well-being of the wizarding community in England," Hermione responded softly. "We were interested in Hogwarts for a few very important reasons. Firstly, Hogwarts is one of the main symbols of the wizarding world, inside or outside old England. We need to preserve that symbol. Secondly, we were afraid that losing the school to one of Voldemort's supporters will broaden Voldemort's recruiting base for his Death Eaters and will limit the number of people willing to fight against him. Then there was the fact that we are quite fond of you personally," she finished with a soft smile.

"Talking about Hogwarts being a symbol – this is exactly the reason I wanted your help in the first place. We risk Hogwarts losing its place as the most prestigious wizarding school in the world."

Harry and Hermione looked puzzled.

"What do you mean, losing its place?" asked Ron. "There's no other place like Hogwarts!"

"That might be true, Mr Weasley, but the way things are looking right now we will have very few students this coming year. If you will take a look at my desk, the large pile of parchment on the left consists of letters of confirmation which were returned by Hogwarts students - unsigned. Some families state that they plan to send their children to other schools abroad while others state they are going to home-school their children. Most declare that the main reason for their decision is security considerations. If this comes to pass, both Hogwarts' reputation and our fight against Vo – You-Know-Who –will receive a severe blow."

"Didn't you go to school with Tom Riddle, Professor?" Harry asked politely, changing the subject.

"I did, Mr Potter. I was Head Girl the year he was nominated Prefect. Why is it relevant?"

"Did you call Tom 'You-Know-Who' back then, too?" he asked.

For a moment the stern old professor looked troubled, almost ashamed. "No, we didn't, Mr Potter," she finally said.

Harry smiled softly. "He's still the same man," he said. "He's no longer the pretty boy he used to be, though, even though I'm not sure I'm qualified to make that distinction," he added, earning himself a chuckle from Ron and Hermione.

"Very well, Mr Potter. Let me put my argument in terms that agree with your position. If you are to fight _Riddle_," she said, stressing Voldemort's name, "you need this school to be your beacon of light. You can't do that with half the students at home or studying at Beauxbatons."

"Professor, you're probably right, but I still can't see how we can be of any help. We're over-stressed as it is. We hardly get enough sleep at night," Hermione said in frustration.

"For six years I followed your progress at school, waiting for you to be Head Girl, as you rightly should."

"I know, Professor," Hermione answered. "Believe me when I say that it hurts to pass up my chance at a position I worked my way toward for six long, hard years, but I just can't see how we can manage school this year."

"Professor," Ron said hesitantly. "Even if we do decide to come back to Hogwarts this fall, we'll do very little for the school's reputation. We'll have to cut down our lesson load, miss a large portion of the courses we do sign up for, and leave school grounds without permission or notice. We'll be a bloody bad example to other students."

"What are you planning to do during the year?"

"Train, fight Death Eaters, and kill Tom," Harry concluded. "Also, we have a few other minor tasks to achieve before our main task can be concluded."

"There must be some compromise that can be reached. Hogwarts has excellent facilities to use for your training, the best research facilities in the wizarding world, which will be available for you at all times, and experienced staff to help you."

"Will you allow the people who work with us to come to the school without notice?"

"Will you accept us using unregistered Portkeys to go out of school grounds and back, through the wards, without your knowledge?"

"Ron and Harry are right, Professor," said Hermione softly. "And I'm not sure about the help we can get here," she added. "Professor Flitwick helped us a lot with the Fidelius charm but refused to help us learn to charm Portkeys. We needed to find another source for that information."

"A lot of what we do and use is illegal, Professor," Ron stressed.

"And we have a much better research library available for us elsewhere," said Hermione, with a small dreamy smile on her face. "We'll need to travel there almost daily – Luna and I at the least."

"Luna? Just how many students are living school with you?"

"I'm not sure if they are all decided yet, bet you have probably seen the risk group" Harry answered.

They could see that the Headmistress had at least some idea of what they were doing, but Hermione's last remark shocked her and pricked her curiosity. Hermione smiled softly to herself. The stern old Headmistress and she were alike in more ways than one. It was probably the reason they held each other in such high esteem.

"We can't tell you about it yet, Professor, but I promise to take you there someday – maybe soon," Harry said softly, and smiled promisingly at his esteemed Professor.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled good-naturedly, "Someday, maybe soon, you might even take _me_ there..."

It took Minerva a long moment to get hold of herself and get back to the matter at hand. "Still, I hope a solution can be found," she said. "What if we house you as a separate division under Hogwarts guidance?"

The three paused to consider the idea.

Noticing her opening, the Headmistress went on to elaborate on her idea. She was flying by the seat of her robes, and she didn't like it one bit. She was never one to propose an idea before thoroughly thinking it through, but right then she needed the three young people sitting in front of her, and she had to keep their attention. The idea itself could be improved upon at a later time.

"You would have separate facilities from the general student body; you would be required to attend one meal a day in the Great Hall; you would have to attend at least one school course with the other students, but otherwise would be free to pursue your training and other activities as needed; you would be able to invite whoever you might like to your facilities as long as that person did not go outside these facilities, otherwise he or she –"

"Or _it_," Ron mumbled, cutting off the Headmistress's speech.

"– will need my permission to go about the school grounds," Minerva went on, giving Ron a stern look which had him quivering under her scrutiny. "I will need you to propose someone who might be nominated as a head of program, for good order's sake."

Minerva paused to give the three students time to consider her offer. It was a time of war, and everyone had to do their best for the war effort. Her part of the effort was to make sure that English students kept receiving the best education possible, and were kept from the Dark.

"It might actually work," Harry finally said, smiling. "We'll need to work on the details, but it's a sound idea."

Minerva carefully released her breath. "I know it will probably take us a while to charm out all the details, but will you agree to publish a notice on the subject during the next couple of days? It's getting late with regard to convincing the parents to admit their children here," she said carefully.

Harry frowned for a moment.

"It's just that we don't have the time for this, Professor," Hermione said, smiling encouragingly. "If you could get in touch with Mr Lovegood of the _Quibbler_ to compose the public notice with his help and then verify it with my mother, it will be fine. You should think of drafting a letter to send to the parents, too."

Once again Minerva sighed in relief. "You know, this year we have the largest number of new Muggleborn students at Hogwarts since the early'50s. There are some twenty-one names on the list I received from the Ministry yesterday. I hope most of them will be able to meet our tuition and study here at Hogwarts."

"This is wonderful! Who is going to visit the new students this year?"

"I just hope it isn't Hagrid," Harry mumbled under his breath.

"I'm not sure yet," Minerva answered, silencing Harry with a stern look. Now that she had what she needed, she could go back to her normal behaviour. "Normally it's the Deputy Headmaster's job to visit the new Muggleborn at home, but Professor Flitwick is hardly the right person to represent the school in front of Muggles. I'll probably ask Professor Pomona Sprout or Professor Septima Vector to make the visits."

"Can I suggest something to you in that regard, Professor?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger."

"It would probably be best if one of the seventh year Muggleborn students accompanied whoever you choose during these visits. Also, I think that the school should help those students' parents to get in touch with each other. I know the largest problem my parents faced was that they had no one to talk to about the fact that their daughter was suddenly revealed to be a witch and disappeared into a boarding school up north, where they couldn't even reach me by phone."

It took Minerva a few moments to process the new idea, but after some thought she couldn't understand why no one had thought about it long before. "This sounds like a wonderful idea. I wonder why no one has ever thought about it before."

"Probably because no one ever thinks about the needs of Muggleborns at Hogwarts, or elsewhere in the wizarding world, for that matter," Harry remarked in a bitter tone. "What about an orientation seminar for new Muggleborn students to help them understand this strange world they've been pulled into?"

"Once again I have nothing against your idea, but if the problem exists, how come none of them have ever raised the subject before? There have been Muggleborn members of the staff in past years here at Hogwarts."

"I can't really be sure, Professor. Some of the Muggleborn students never come to learn to control their magic; others probably disappear back into the Muggle world and don't look back. Most of them know that no one in the magical world will listen to a Muggleborn, and they're just getting by with their lives. Those you're talking about are probably so 'institutionalised' by the time they manage to be included in Hogwarts' staff that they don't notice the problem any more."

Minerva was at a loss. There were too many new concepts coming up in this conversation for her to be able to process them properly. "I don't know how to answer all this right now, Mr Potter. I promise to think about it and talk with you again. In the mean time, I want to draft the letters to the parents and the press and implement Miss Granger's idea. Can I count on your help, Miss Granger?"

"I don't know if I have the time to go to all those meetings, but I'll talk with Justin and I'm sure we'll have a solution for you in a few days."

"I'll also contact Gringotts," Harry added. "Let me see if we can set up a trust to help student pay their tuition, Professor."

Looking at his friends, Ron rose to his feet. "Settled, then? I think we're expected at the torture – er, training room back home. The earlier we get there, the lesser the torture will be."

"Right," Minerva said. "You were a lot of help to me and Hogwarts. I'll draft the letters and be in touch with Mrs Granger. I will also be in touch with you about our plans for the new school year. Miss Granger, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley."

As the Headmistress ushered them out of the office and to the spiraling staircase, Harry stopped, a new thought occurring to him. "Professor," he asked, "what happens to the Muggleborns who decide not to go to a wizarding school?"

Minerva blinked at the unexpected question. "I'm not sure, Mr Potter," she finally answered. "As far as I know, nothing 'happens' to them as such. Most just live their lives without ever thinking of magic again. Very few are powerful enough to –"

"Capable!" Hermione corrected her absentmindedly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, sorry, it's just something that Helga wrote about," Hermione answered without really explaining.

"As I was saying, a few powerfully magical Muggleborns are dealt with by the Ministry, for their own safety. If I remember it right, there was once a Dark sorceress who was an untrained Muggleborn witch."

"Oh yes, my boy," came a familiar voice from the wall behind the Headmistress's desk, making both Harry and Minerva flinch. "If I remember correctly, it was during the early eighteenth century. She was very difficult to fight against since her magic was of her own invention rather than any known spells and curses."

"A bit like Riddle in his early years, isn't it?" Harry remarked with a voice full of sarcasm, and he left the office without giving the late Headmaster's portrait a chance to respond.

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"Harry, look – new wands!"

As soon as they entered the training room they were tackled by a very excited red-haired girl who was waving wands in both of her hands.

"They arrived late in the morning. Each of us can have one."

The excitement was contagious and the three friends hurried to the open wand chest, which sat on the corner table. Inside was a small pile of new wands made of beech, or other similarly light coloured wood.

"These are general use wands; they mostly use Dragon heartstring as a magical core, but a few are different so you have a little choice," Remus explained. "These wands are supposed to work fine with every wizard or witch, but they can't give you the kind of focus and control you are familiar with from your own personal wand. They should give you something like seventy percent usability –eighty percent if you're lucky. Just put your hand in, browse the wands without looking, and take out the one that feels right to you."

They thanked Remus for the explanation, and few moments later each one of them held a wand in each hand.

"Tonks couldn't be here today," Remus said in answer to their unasked question. "She'll be here tomorrow morning to demonstrate new drills, using these new wands, and generally order us around," he said, smiling fondly. "In the meanwhile she has asked me to tell you to play around with the new wands; try putting them into the holsters and drawing them out, casting spells with a wand in each hand, and the like."

"So we're mostly having fun today," Ginny exclaimed. "Look!" she said, and sent a spell at Remus that turned his hair into fresh grass.

Remus growled and tried to retaliate, only to have his spell splash over Ginny's shield, which she managed to conjure with her second wand while her back was turned to him. Remus's next spell conjured a bucket just above her head, which overturned and drenched her with green paint.

"This _is_ fun," Ron exclaimed and sent a spell at Hermione's back, Transfiguring her clothes into a Gryffindor Quidditch suit, though without the elaborate decoration. Hermione huffed and tried a stinging spell on Ron, only to meet his shield and then another shield from his second wand. In exasperation she turned and sent a blue spell into the far corner of the room. She had to use her second wand immediately to conjure a sphere shield, to protect herself from Ron's magic.

In the corner of the room, where no one was paying attention to it, a broom raised onto its tail. A shudder went through it as the broom grew two hands. It picked up two empty buckets, which stood beside it, and slowly went out of the room.

Meanwhile, Remus was backing under assault by both Ginny and Luna. He was using both his wands to keep his shields up against the barrage of spells coming at him from Ginny. She was using both her wands in tandem to increase her spell power, to great effect. In the meantime Luna was using one of her wands to defend Ginny from the occasional spells Remus managed to cast at them, while using her main wand to create distractions. First Remus found himself walking through shallow quicksand; then he padded through high grass with a large pack of fluorescent green squirrels running between his legs and all over his body; finally he fell over, having been tackled by a black sheep that bleated at him angrily. The distraction was enough for Ginny to catch him unprotected and Transfigure his boots into lead.

All the while, Harry was holding his sphere shield in defence against a combined attack by Susan, Su, and Neville. He then used the other wand to conjure a secondary localised shield which he used to deflect his attackers' spells back toward them. He found it was quite easy to do while dealing with Su and Susan, but all he could do with Neville's spells was to absorb them with his shield, or to deflect them without any control. After a while he had to use his regular wand in order to achieve even this. Nevertheless, Harry was advancing on his attackers; at the moment, Su had a flowery garden on her hat, courtesy of Neville; Susan sported pink and purple clothes, thanks to Su's effort; while Neville cancelled, for the fifth time, all kinds of simple schoolyard jinxes like jelly-legs and the fur spell.

Taking notice of Remus's predicament, Harry chuckled softly. "You'll need to go on the offensive in order to win against those two. Try using a shield you can cast spells through," he suggested.

An evil smile came to Remus's face, making Ginny and Luna reconsider their glee. First a sphere shield appeared around Remus, giving him time to react. Then, in the corner of the room, a table raised onto two feet, shaking off all the refreshments that had rested on it. The table was mounted by a straight-backed chair, which held a broom at one of its feet and waved it like a sword. The table neighed and chased after Luna and Ginny, who squealed in fright and ran, looking for shelter.

At the same time, the door opened to admit the broom which was now carrying two heavy buckets filled with cold water. The broom made its way slowly to Ron. Ron was occupied at the moment with trying to breach Hermione's defences with a barrage of spells. To his great surprise, and a little trepidation, Hermione did nothing to retaliate. She cancelled the Transfiguration of her clothes, but otherwise did nothing but defend herself against Ron's magic with a little harbinger smile on her lips. He was wondering what exactly was going on, and what his part in the scheme was, when suddenly his back was drenched with ice cold water. With a growl he turned, only to be drenched from the front too. With an angry cry Ron performed a Reducto on the broom and buckets and blew them to pieces, and then he turned back to the ever smiling Hermione. Behind his back, a shudder went through the pieces of the broom and buckets as each piece grew a tail and arms. Each small broom picked up two small buckets, and few seconds later seven small brooms marched slowly toward the room's door carrying fourteen miniature buckets, growing as they marched.

As they fled, Luna and Ginny found themselves suddenly running across a bridge over troubled water. Without notice, the bridge rose and threw the two shrieking girls into the stream. Suddenly Remus found himself hanging upside down by a creature he couldn't identify, and suspended over the same stream of water. "Nooooo!" he managed to cry just before he was dropped, head first, into the cold water beside Ginny and Luna.

"Draw?" asked Ginny.

"Draw!" Remus agreed, shivering from the cold.

"Can we get Harry now? He's too clean," Luna pleaded.

Suddenly Harry found himself attacked from all sides. At another side of the room, with a subtle gesture of her wand, Hermione sent one of the seven brooms that were now entering the room over to Harry. The first wave of cold water shook Harry so much that his shields faltered for the first time that day. A second later he was covered with large spots of paint in various colours.

Elsewhere in the room Ron was being drenched with bucket after bucket of cold water. He turned once again and performed another Reducto on the six brooms standing around him, reducing them to splinters as he shouted in anger and frustration.

The corner of the room where Harry stood turned into an all-out paint war. Everyone was now covered from head to toe with stains of colour in a quite psychedelic range of shades and they were laughing their heads off.

Suddenly the room was shocked into silence by a loud booming noise. At the door stood Tonks, hands on her hips, wearing her best red "angry" hair.

At that time, the room was no longer looking like a room. The floor was covered with scattered flora; in the middle of the room ran a rapid stream with an old fashioned stone bridge over it and many wild and quite peculiar animals were roaming around.

"And here I was thinking that you were training here and came to help," she chided.

For a long moment everyone on the room stood frozen. A few ashamed looks appeared, just as the first of the regiment of brooms pushed its way into the room sending Tonks sliding spread-eagled onto the floor amid pools of paint and water. One after the other, all the people in the room were drenched with bucket after bucket of ice-cold water, effectively rinsing the paint off them. As the last of the brooms made its way toward Hermione, she pointed her wand at it and said, "_Finite_." It took the spell a couple of seconds to take effect – enough time for the broom to throw its bucket loads of water at Hermione, drenching her from head to toe, before it fell, now rigid, to the floor.

The defeat of the broom was the catalyst that caused the room to fill with laughter again. Just then the door slowly opened and two identical redheads appeared in the opening.

"Why do I get the feeling that we missed something, o brother of mine?" asked Fred.

George just shrugged in confusion.

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_Right – clear my mind!_

For the last three hours he had been reading through an Occlumency guide that Hermione had found for him in his library. For a year now, he was avoiding the subject, deterred by his nasty experience with Snape. The night of his birthday pointed out the fact that the subject was no longer avoidable, if it ever was. According to the book, basic Occlumency consisted of three main parts: a) clearing one's mind; b) building outer defences; and c) hiding one's memories. Quite logical, actually, if you took the time to think about it. The book went on to explain that casual thinking wasn't healthy for one's mental privacy. Once you tried to snoop into another person's mind, the first thing you encountered was that person's casual thoughts and memories – recent memories, for the most part. The book suggested that the best way to give any prying mind a headache was to clear the mind of all uncertified memories and not think _casually_. The book also stated that a more advanced method of increasing the headache effect was to leave specific unpleasant memories floating around in one's mind for the intruder to stumble upon. Apparently, if you had an advanced idea about the identity of the owner of the prying mind, this defence was even more effective. The book also commented that the process of clearing one's mind was different, but not totaly dissimilar to the process of quieting one's mind enough so one could fall asleep.

_Brilliant! And this book's supposed to be a basic studying aid..._

Nevertheless he decided to give it a chance. He tried to stack his thoughts and pile them in a "corner" of his mind. That didn't work at all. Firstly, the thoughts just kept getting away from him, and more importantly, he couldn't find any corner in his mind. He tried to create a corner. _Damn! It's _my_ mind and it'll have a corner if I want it to!_ he thought in frustration, and indeed a corner did appear in the – erm – _corner_ of his mind. The problem, or one of them at least, was that now he had many more thoughts to stack and not enough corners to stack them in. He tried to create more corners, but every new corner was followed with many more new thoughts than he could store there. Then it occurred to him that every corner was a thought in itself.

_Lets try something else._ He conjured huge sacks to store the thoughts away; in a way it worked, but not well enough. It felt like trying to collect Dudley's toys from around the house – whenever he managed to put few of the toys back into Dudley's room, other toys "magically" managed to spread out throughout the house all over again. Sisyphean, Hermione would have called it. He sat on a sack-full of thoughts to gather his thoughts. _Hilarious! _he thought. _You're just being hilarious!_

Surprisingly enough, what he was trying (and failing) to do was indeed different, but not dissimilar to trying to fall asleep with a busy mind. The problem (again, just one of the problems) was that he was never one to fall asleep quickly or easily.

_Damn!_

The funny thing was that the more he tried to get rid of the thoughts roaming around in his mind, the more surreal these thoughts became. At that moment he was watching, with both sadness and amusement, a giant purple dog running around together with an orange wolf and a fluorescent yellow stag trying to catch a toxic green rat for them. The rat had found refuge inside the belly of a pink hippo wearing ballet shoes and a tiny skirt.

_Let's see Hermione explain that!_ he thought to himself, and he watched the thought take the form of a butterfly, which took off and flew toward one of the corners, which were still scattered around his mind. A butterfly net appeared in his hand and he ran after the thought, trying to get it back.

_This is no use! Right, let's try something else – this is just like trying to fall asleep. What do I do to fall asleep?_

"Bheeeee..."

Harry turned around (well, _metaphorically_ turned around) to see, in the distance, at the back of his mind, a sheep – a small, white, woolly sheep with a blue collar and big brown eyes – which looked at him and looked, well, sheepish. Harry looked at the sheep as, much to his surprise, what looked like a flare raised from the back of the sheep and drew the number 1 above its head.

"Bheeeee!"

He turned back and saw a new sheep standing close behind him. Once again a flare was released, drawing the number 2.

"Bheeee! Bheeeee!" – sheep No. 3 and 4 appeared in his mind. "Bheeee!" 13 and 14. "Bheeee! Bheeeee!" Sheep 22, 23, and 24 started to eat the sack of thoughts he had gathered earlier. _Hey, you! _he shouted at them and tried to chase them away, but was stopped by sheep 42, which held him from behind with its teeth and gave Harry a sheepish look. Sheep 53 and 62 chased the hippo away. "Bheeee!" Sheep 15, 86, and 46 chased the dog, the wolf, and the stag into a dark hole in the ground, which was then eaten by sheep 91. Harry watched in astonishment as his butterfly landed on the head of sheep 104; then his mind around him blurred, then darkened, and he fell asleep.

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"Enjoying yourself?"

Percy sat in a seedy bar in the back of Knockturn Alley. It wasn't his regular place. Actually, Percy was not much of a boozer, so he didn't actually have a _regular_ place. The choice of this specific pub was based on two main factors – a) he didn't run the risk of meeting anyone he knew, and b) the drinks were extremely inexpensive. Obviously he was wrong about the first one, though. He looked as the person sat down in the chair in front of him, uninvited, and leaned forward so the candlelight lit his face beneath the hood he wore.

"Oh, it's you," Percy mumbled, lowering his face again to the dirty glass of Firewhisky he cradled in his hands. He took a small sip and let the drink burn its way through his head and throat, and smoke his ears. Good Firewhisky warmed one's throat and sinuses, leaving behind an aftertaste full of the aroma of smoked oak, honey and pepper. This wasn't good Firewhisky at all. It burnt his throat, leaving him feeling rather sick.

"Not enjoying yourself, then?"

"Came to gloat?"

Not that it was such a surprise. Percy wasn't making any friends lately. Actually he'd lost most of the few friends he had. Just last week, Percy had been on a roll. He was the one Ministry employee who had made the largest advance in the Ministry organisation in the last three centuries or so, from the position of a lowly secretary in a dead-end department to the prestigious position of personal aide to the Minister himself. He had survived the death of one superior and the political destruction of another without so much as a dent in his own career.

_Just who an I kidding?_ he thought. His employers didn't even bother to remember his name. Crouch probably didn't have a choice but to hire him, and had been controlled at the time by his son anyway. Fudge and, later on, Scrimgeour had just wanted him as a tool to be used. He had been hired in order to betray Professor Dumbledore, Potter and, incidentally, his own family. _Not that I was such a good betrayer_, he thought in self-pity and took another sip of his bad drink as a means of punishing himself.

"You know whose fault it is?"

Percy wasn't sure any more. A few days ago he would have answered "Potter" with certainty, but a few days ago he wouldn't have believed this was possible. The first sign was probably Penelope leaving him. He loved her, he did, with all his heart. But gradually he thought of all kinds of excuses to keep from having to recognise the real reasons for her leaving him. He still had his career. He was on his way up the ladder; he didn't need week people to slow him down – or so he had excused himself in his mind. Now he was alone, with no career, no prospects, and neither family nor friends. He took another sip and smoked bitterly.

"It's not too late, you know. You can still be of use and do good."

Percy just sat in silence, cradling his dirty, mostly empty glass of cheap Firewhisky, and looked at his hands. He was tired and hungry and hadn't had a change of clothes in two or five days. There was a limit to what could be achieved with charms. Then he raised his eyes to look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of him.

"Here." The man handed him a money bag. "Don't argue with me," he said, "I know you need it. Go home. Wash yourself, eat something, and stay there. You will be contacted in a few days' time."

Percy watched the man's back as he stood up and walked out of the pub without further words. He then lowered his eyes and looked at the money ba, that sat on the table in front of him. He _did_ need the money. A moment later he sighed, emptied his glass, took the money bag, and got up form the table. He needed to buy some food before going back home; he needed to pay the rent before the landlord threw him out; but first he needed to throw up. Percy made his choice...

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"Come, Harry, you should wake up." A soft hand and a soft voice pulled Harry from the heavy arms of slumber. "Here you are." He opened his eyes to see Hermione smiling over him. She took his book from his hands, closed it, marking the page he was reading, and looked at the cover. "Occlumency? I wouldn't have guessed that the subject would be so boring," she said with a little teasing in her voice. "Come, you fell asleep reading in the library. You need to go up to your room and have a good night's sleep. Tonks will be here tomorrow, and I fear she's out for revenge."

"She probably is," Harry responded with a small smile at the memory of Hermione's brooms. He stood up and walked up the stairs to his room, holding his book on Occlumency and with a faint memory of sheep filling his mind.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Yesterday Harry was on to something interesting."

As they did every afternoon, Hermione and Luna sat in the Ravenclaw library, doing research and discussing ideas. Hermione had always been quite solitary in her studies. Sure, she'd studied with both Harry and Ron in the past, and even helped Ginny with her OWLs last year, but this was exactly the point – she always studied by herself and then offered her accumulated knowledge to her friends. This was a totally new concept for her, sitting with another person and discussing ideas together as a form of studying.

"Hm?"

Obviously, this was new to Luna as well. Luna wasn't used to doing _anything_ with company. The possibility of sitting together with another person and not having to constantly watch her back or ignore dismissive or hurtful remarks had never occurred to her in the past. The fact that that other person might even help her and make her time more pleasurable and productive opened up a whole new world.

"We visited the Headmistress at Hogwarts in the morning. She wanted to discuss the new school year with us."

"I didn't know we were going back to school."

"Well, the old cat can be persuasive," Hermione mumbled with some frustration.

Luna raised an eyebrow at her. Recently she had let Su do her eyebrows for the first time, so the gesture was much more effective than it had ever been before. Sure enough, Su couldn't do the work all by herself, so she called Ginny to help her. Ginny was happy to join and brought Hermione, who invited Fleur and Susan. Susan needed some work done as well. She just _had_ to have her hair and fingernails done before the next day. She needed something special done before her next date with Bradley. Every time Bradley's name came up the whole room of giggly girls roared in fits of laughter and Susan turned a pretty Weasley red. Soon enough they were all helping each other and offering ideas and charms from their family's grimoires. Usually one didn't disclose secret family magic to others, but it was a well established custom to share these types of innocent magic among friends. They all took turns doing full beauty treatments on each other, until it was Fleur's turn. Since no one could find anything to improve about her, they all settled on hating her for about five minutes and then went on with the evening's fun. Fleur actually had a lot of good advice and knowledge to help them all. She was, after all, from a _French_ boarding-school.

Luna had quite a lot of fun just being with the other girls, though she still couldn't understand why a girl would go through all that pain just to have few hairs plucked from her body. And why, oh why couldn't the hair removal charm work in conjunction with the numbing charm?

"Well, she didn't have to put much pressure on me," Hermione admitted uneasily. "I'm so easy sometimes, you know. As soon as there was a reasonable solution on the table, I was the first one to cave in. Now I get to be Head Girl, which I've wanted ever since the first day at school, Professor McGonagall gets to save her first school year as Headmistress, and Ginny gets to be Quidditch captain, meaning Ron doesn't get to be. Now we just need to think of a way to compensate for the lost time; I feel like it's entirely my fault."

"How are we going to do that?"

"The Professor is going to declare the establishment of the Hogwarts Institution of Defensive Magical Research. We still need to suggest a person to be the formal head of the new institution. We can't use Tonks since she's an active Auror, and you know why Remus won't be acceptable to the Board. We'll have the third floor corridor set aside for our needs, as well as the Room of Requirement, access with direct Portkeys, and almost complete autonomy over our schedules. Our work is actually going to count as preparation for our Defence mastery. For our part we have to show at least a minimal level of involvement with the Hogwarts student population and contribute to the school's security and Defence instruction.

"DA?"

"Hummmmm," answered Hermione in agreement.

"It's going to be an interesting year."

_"Interesting"?_ Hermione had other words for it. "Exhausting" came to mind; "overwrought" was probably another good word to use. "Long", "pressured", "looming", "dark", and "disastrous" were all appropriate words too, but the word she would have used above all was "frightening", probably even "terrifying". Sometimes she felt like she and her friends were just characters in someone's trashy thriller novel. She just wished the writer had chosen someone else to entertain his readers. _I feel like Frodo Baggins probably felt, entering Mordor through Shelob's tunnel.__More like Samwise Gamgee,_ she thought to herself, amused at the thought – walking into darkness, ever following and helping her friends, giving them hope even when she saw none herself. _Samwise Gamgee. _She tested the name in her head. _Can I possibly be Samwise the brave?_ Sadly, Gandalf had betrayed them; there was no Elrond to guide them with his wisdom; no Aragorn to fight at their side, and no pretty Legolas to dream of at night. _Well, I can certainly dream of whoever I like, _she thought, amused once again. _And Lord of the Rings is most certainly much better written th_a_n our bloody story._

Luna looked inquisitively at her chuckling friend.

"Interesting is one way to describe it," Hermione answered without explaining.

Luna watched her friend as she did her best to avoid the most urgent subject they had to discuss and preferably solve that evening. Luna herself was a master of avoiding almost any subject and was quite impressed by Hermione's capabilities. Nevertheless she was not to be deterred. "Two summers ago, Daddy took me to South America to chase Tempislian Mimbilars. They're these beautiful white bunny-like birds that live in diamond mines. We could see them, but we couldn't catch one or take a picture because the Mimbilars can jump back and forth in time. It's only for a second or two, but they always know where you are and what you're doing, so they can keep out of your way," she told Hermione. "Actually, they take care to keep _you_ out of _their_ way," she added after some thought.

"**All right!** All right – time travel. I understand – we need to discuss the Time-Turners," Hermione said, frustration clear in her voice. "I don't have to like it, do I?"

Sometimes, and I've said it before, the right thing to say is nothing at all. Luna was well aware of this fact and practiced wisdom.

"I just hate the damn things," Hermione finally mumbled. "I used one for almost a year and hated every minute of it, only I couldn't bring myself to stop using it. The feeling that you can _make_ all the time you need is intoxicating and deceptive. Every damn minute has a price tag to it, but you get to see the price only after you've used the time. I was _so_ tired and _so_ tense, and all the time I just wanted to give it all up, curl up on my bed, and fall asleep. But I always needed to go to just one more class, do just one more assignment, research just one more detail..."

"Did you ever do it?"

"Huh?"

"Did you ever give in? Fall asleep?"

"Sure. Once I even missed a lesson. Then I had to give excuses to Professor Flitwick, turn back time to learn the lesson by myself, and then turn back time again so my friends wouldn't notice my disappearance."

"What did you miss most during all that time?"

"Time," Hermione almost said, before stopping herself. She looked suspiciously at Luna, who wore her trademark dreamy smile. _Did she just smirk? No! She couldn't have!_

"How long were your days?"

"Including the time I repeated?" Hermione asked, stalling.

Luna just kept smiling at her. Now she looked almost smug. _Nooo! This is Luna!_

"All right! I didn't get enough sleep!"

"So?"

"So we need to make time to sleep," Hermione answered softly, after a very long pause.

For quite a long time they sat comfortably and read their books. Around them house-elves, directed by Sami, bustled around the library putting new books in place, updating old digests, and in the meantime rearranging the whole place. The gleam in Sami's eyes was astonishing. At least Hermione thought so. She looked at the busy elves for a while, smiling fondly at them; then she turned suddenly to look at Luna, who was still smiling her personal dreamy smile, as if she was amused by a private joke. _Did she just chuckle? At me? Nooo!_

"So? What was it?" Luna asked after another comfortable silence.

"Huh?"

"Yesterday Harry was on to something interesting…?"

It took Hermione a long moment to remember what Luna was talking about. "Right. We were at Professor McGonagall's and she told us about that Dark sorceress from the eighteenth century. Apparently she was a Muggleborn witch who was never been taught magic, so the magic she used was mostly of her own making. Harry said it's like You-K…Voldemort's magic when he was young."

"Interesting!"

"I'm reading _The Essence of Magic_ again, and I keep having the feeling that Helga Hufflepuff took only the first few steps, arguably down the right road. Could it be that magic has no rules? No limits?"

"Aren't we going down the same road a little too far?"

Hermione raised her eyes from the old tome and looked at her friend questioningly.

"We know that magic _can_ be explained by Arithmancy. It can also be planned and developed with the same tool."

Hermione looked a little embarrassed. Magic was certainly not the chaotic substance she described. But if not – what was Magic?

"Can it be both?"

For a moment, Hermione was confused by the question. Then she began to see the possible solution. "Both!" she just said, with a small dreamy smile on her face.

"_More on the Essence of Magic_, by Hermione Granger?"

"Don't be absurd – I'm not that presumptuous. It would be by Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger," she said smiling. "_If_ we can prove any of it," she added, with a little frown.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Just enjoy it and stop rubbing it in my face!" said a very angry Ron while running around and around the athletics track in the small town of Longeville-sur-Mer, on the west coast of France. Old England was raining that morning and Emma had remembered the small provincial town from one of their trips to the continent. She also remembered that the small old town had a modern sport centre built on its outskirts. Harry used her memory to make the Portkey, while Tonks looked on with a frown and Hermione and Luna with small, secretive smiles.

Ginny was running just in front of Ron, telling Luna animatedly that she had been nominated captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She was even wearing her captain badge on her training suit.

"Just couldn't help yourself?"

"Nope," Ginny answered in a sheepish tone.

"Congratulations?"

"Indeed!"

"All part of the HIDMR thing?"

"Yep. Hermione is going to be Head Girl. She told me Zabini was nominated Head Boy..."

"The stupid snake!" came Ron's voice from behind them.

"Yes, Hermione told me that my dear brother almost lost his head when Zabini was suggested. She said the Hogwarts rules prevent the nomination of both Head Boy and Girl from the same House. Zabini was chosen to strengthen the moderated section of the Slytherin House."

"All I say is that we don't need these snakes – moderates or not!"

Luna ignored Ron's vocal opinion. "What did Harry say?" she asked.

"Nothing special; he doesn't know Zabini that well and he just hopes the bloke isn't a Death Eater. From Hermione's description, it sounds like if he is, he won't be for long. Professor McGonagall offered the position to Harry, but he refused and said he didn't even know if he'd have time to play at all this year, never mind leading the team. Harry suggested Ron, but, according to Hermione, Professor McGonagall said that his grades are barely good enough for him to keep his Prefect badge, and she was certainly not going to lay more responsibility on his shoulders – hence **me!**"

"All the better, I say. Now we have a real chance at the cup."

"Hey! I just need to get dear green-eyes there to play, and I'll get _my_ name on the cup by the end of the year."

"So sure of ourselves, aren't we?" Luna asked in the most sarcastic voice she could summon. "I believe the Hufflepuff team has the best chance this year. Slytherin's team was almost decimated; we have a building year in front of us, with Chang finally off the team and all her friends along with her; and your team..." she trailed off.

"_My_ team is the best in school!" Ginny assured her friend.

"Inexperienced captain, uncoordinated and untrained Chaser unit, rubbish Beaters, an unstable Keeper..."

"**Hey!**" Ron gave an indignant shout from behind them.

"Maybe I can come up with a new song for this year. You're sure not keeping your lion mascot this year."

"Still keeping up," Ginny remarked with a dry voice. "Good! I want _my_ players to be in good shape!"

"_Your_ players? Arrgh!"

Ginny and Luna just giggled a little (well, Ginny did most of the giggling) and increased their pace to leave the steaming Ron behind, panting and trying his best to keep up.

Elsewhere in the group, other conversations were taking place:

"Can you spare some time for Luna and me this evening? We came up with something interesting and need your help with it."

"Guinea pig, again?"

"Err, something like that," Hermione had to admit. "I promise we'll explain everything beforehand this time, though, or rather give you a full explanation about our reason _not_ to explain."

"What is it about?"

"Magic!" was the cheeky response. Hermione laughed at Harry's frown. "I want to explain it all at once and need Luna's help, but I promise you it's very important, so will you?"

"Sure," he said, smiling at his friend. "I'll make time after dinner."

Hermione nodded in acceptance, making her thick ponytail dance. "About that," she added. "Luna and I have an idea about 'making time' we want to test. Can you get us one of the Time-Turners for a week?"

"Is it dangerous?" he asked, now having a concerned look in his eyes. Harry still remembered the effect the Time-Turner had had on his friend during third year.

"Luna actually had a very good idea. You know how I hate it when others prove me wrong?"

Harry nodded with a small cheeky smile.

"Oh shut up, you prat!" she said, smacking his arm amicably. "She's actually quite good at that," Hermione added. "She has her unique view on the world, and she doesn't usually say anything unless she has something interesting to contribute to the conversation. Quite refreshing, I must say," she commented, looking at Ron who was struggling to keep up with Luna and Ginny on the other side of the track.

"Yes, she is," Harry concurred, following her gaze. "So, what do you have in mind?"

"Luna has an idea about what I did wrong during third year. She might be right, and I want to test the idea for a week before we present it to the others. We certainly do need the extra time."

"Is it complicated?"

"No, but I only want to explain it once, and we should test the idea beforehand. Do you trust me?"

"There's no one I trust more," he smiled at her.

"Race you to the finish line," she laughed and ran away.

"You traitor!" Harry laughed and ran after her, trying to catch up.

Other parts of the track saw other types of conversations:

"How was last night?"

Susan's smile grew wider than Su thought possible. "I went out with Bradley," Susan said, not noticing her friend rolling her eyes. "He took me to a rock concert. Some group called Oasis. The Weird Sisters have nothing on them, I can tell you. There were thousands of young people there, cheering and dancing and singing with the band and having fun. There was one time when they sang a sad, quiet song – they darkened the hall and everyone in the crowd held lit fires in their hand above their heads. It was beautiful! I conjured two candles before Bradley could stop me," she added a little embarrassed. "They have a strange device to conjure fire without a candle, the Muggles. And they didn't use firestones or matches, like they told us in Muggle Studies."

"Did you drink some?"

"Yes – no! Sure, I had something to drink. Quite a few somethings, actually, but I'm telling you the truth – honestly!'

Su looked very sceptical. "Right. What did you do then?"

"We went to a nice place to have a bite and a pint. He invited me home with him, but I couldn't – I needed to go home."

"Don't you trust Bradley?" Su asked with a cheeky smile.

"I don't know yet, but it's not that – I'm the last of the Boneses. I feel some kind of compulsion to stay home at night. It's quite lonely and sad, my place these days, but I can't help it. I talked with Neville the other day and he seems to feel something similar. I think Bradley was a little hurt, but I tried to explain and I told him I'd invite him to my place sometime soon. I just need to cancel the anti-Muggle wards beforehand."

"I can come and stay with you from time to time if you like," Su said softly.

"Thanks, Su." Susan smiled a sad little smile. "I appreciate it."

"Do you know something about Animagus transformation?" Tonks ran beside Remus and for a change wasn't looking at the others to judge their work.

"Quite a lot, actually. You know most of my school friends were Animagi, and after they surprised me with that fact, they couldn't stop telling me stories about the process. I think 'bragging' would be a more accurate word for it, in fact. It's tedious and hard work, even if you do have the potential. Why are you asking? As far as I know a Metamorph can't be an Animagus."

"It's not for me. It's something I was thinking about – did you ever try it yourself?"

"**What?**"

"Hey! Don't bite my head off – it's an idea. _Did_ you ever try it?"

"Once," was the subdued answer. "After they showed me what they'd done, I was a little jealous of them. I tried to identify my form, but all I could see was the damn Wolf."

"Did you try to actually transform?"

"What? Into the Wolf? The Wolf overshadows me enough as it is, I don't want to experience it more than necessary."

"Couldn't you at least try?"

Remus was visibly furious. "Is this your wonderful solution for me? To give up and give in to the Wolf? What a wonderful friend you are!" Remus hurried his steps and ran away.

"Remus!" she cried after his back. _That went well_, she thought. _Just great!_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Right, girls, yesterday I gave you a bit of leeway and you abused you're privilege," Tonks said, ignoring both the snickers and the looks of dread that went around. "Now you start paying," she continued, "with sweat!"

This managed to silence even the amused part of the audience. Tonks had her feral smile on and her "angry" hair, which meant she was going to both torture them _and_ enjoy the process.

"Two wands – what good does do you?"

No one said a word since it was obviously a rhetorical question. Hermione fought the urge to raise her hand and answer, but even she knew better than to intervene with Tonks' speech.

Tonks smiled with satisfaction. "The first and obvious use of a second wand is backup. A witch with a second, backup wand is much harder to disarm. It works for wizards too, but since they're _men_, they have a limitation that can't be cured no matter how many, or how large a wand they're carrying."

A new wave of snickers was unavoidable. "A witch doesn't even need a backup in order to do _that_," Fleur was heard to whisper in Susan's ear.

"Amused, aren't we?" Tonks sneered and silenced the room once more.

"A much more important use for a second wand is the ability to cast more than one spell at a time. This ability is limited by a few factors. The first is obvious – the witch's magical power."

"Ability!" Hermione was heard to say in an undertone. "Sorry – go on!" she added and moved her hand over her mouth in a motion that indicated she would be a good and _silent_ little witch from that moment on.

"We've been working on stretching your magical limits during the last few weeks. Using more than one wand at a time is going to strain you much more. The second factor is the witch's coordination. This is an especially limiting factor if you still need to use wand motions to produce the desired spell, which brings us to the last and most important factor – the witch's command of her mind and magic. Taking this into consideration, we can identify three levels of use of two wands:

"At the basic level, the _wizard_ holds a wand in each hand and uses them alternately on the same or separate targets. Even at this basic level, the gain in spell power and the decrease in response time are both significant. There is no theoretical explanation for it, but wizards who are limited to this basic level of use can usually make their spells much more efficient by holding both hands together and casting the same spell using both wands at the same time.

"More accomplished witches can use both wands separately, as long as they use the same spell. It's a huge improvement in the witch's efficiency during combat, since she's able to handle twice the number of targets, and at a wider angle, during battle. This is the level of skill you need in order to storm a room full of Death Eaters and Stun, or preferably Reducto them into oblivion. Many wizards can't advance past this level; I hope most if not all of our active unit will reach this level.

"At the next level of skill the witch will be able to use both wands to cast different spells simultaneously. One spell will be active and the other passive; this is to say that you will be able to shield yourself using one wand while casting with the other. The same goes for any other spell or charm which is used to preserve a certain state, such as levitation, temperature, wind, etc. I can operate on this level, to a measure, and as far as I can see, some of you are able to also." Tonks looked at Luna and Ginny as she said that, which made Ginny smile happily. Luna just kept her dreamy smile and appeared totally unaffected by the compliment. Tonks continued, "This level of skill requires excellent control of one's magic and mind, since even the passive spell or charm requires a constant supply of magic and intent by the witch.

"The final level of expertise is as self-evident as it is theoretical," Tonks went on, using her best lecturing voice. "_Theoretically_, when a witch has total control of her mind and magic, as well as enough power to cast around – "

Hermione looked as if she had something to say, but she thought better of it.

"The witch would be able to use both her wands, together, to cast any spell or charm desired. Magic theoreticians have suggested that anyone who is capable of this level of magical control would probably be able to forego the use of a wand altogether. In reality, there is no reliable documentation of any witch in history who was ever capable of that much control over her magic. There are legends about Merlin and the Founders, of course, but if you start believing every story about them..."

Hermione and Luna exchanged uncomfortable looks, yet said nothing.

"Back to reality. Two wands are the weapon of the very talented, yet human. Gods like the Professor or You-Know-Who use only one wand and rely on sheer power and sophistication to overwhelm their opponents. Now – let's see just where practice and sweat can carry us."

The world "grueling" just couldn't start and describe it. Tonks made them start with simple drills. Each one of them had two targets to hit and defend from. It was quite simple – you had to maintain a certain pace of casting in order to keep the targets from casting back. That pace increased all the time, bringing every one of them to their breaking point. Only three managed to keep the targets at bay: Neville, Hermione, who managed to side-step the light stingers that the targets managed to throw at her from time to time, and Harry, who just stood there and overwhelmed both of his targets with a constant stream of magic.

Luna and Ginny used another tactic. Each used one wand to shield and the other to cast. Since the targets were limited to a light stinging jinx, shielding was not a problem. Others were learning – the painful way. Next they did the same thing with moving targets, which made the drill even more "interesting" for those who were still learning. In effect, Luna and Ginny's way was the practical one. Either you could generate enough magic to overwhelm the target's magic, or at one point or another you just had to shield. Actually, Harry was shielding too – against Tonks.

The next drill was directed toward make them use a shield and dedicate enough magic to the charm. Tonks made them practice in pairs. Each person, on his turn, had to cast at a moving target while shielding against his partner. Soon enough the partners discovered that they had better keep their shields up too – especially if Tonks didn't think they did enough to put pressure on their partners. By lunchtime they were all exhausted and displayed an impressive variety of cuts, bruises, and other magically inflicted wounds. After lunch Tonks sent them back to do their usual accuracy and endurance drills, only this time using both wands.

"Let them work on this for about a week," Tonks said to Bill, who stood by her side. Apparently Remus was still angry with her since their morning run. He stood at the farthest corner of the room, did his drills with Hermione as a partner, and did his best to look everywhere but at his girlfriend. "This set of drills will push most of them to their limits. Some of them can actually put most of the active Aurors to shame right now. By this time next week, I want to put them into teams and start building them into a combat unit. If I read the map right, we're going to need them trained and active soon. The Ministry is trying to organize the Auror force into some kind of battle units. As far as I can tell, we're going to have no more than three. Harry's unit is going to be a huge help. I've talked to him and I understand that he also plans to train Hogwarts students starting at the beginning of the year. I told him not to build his expectations too high, but if he can organize them into two more units, even half trained, it will be a big boost to Hogwarts security. Merlin knows we need any sort of security and organized defense we can get, especially at Hogwarts. The Minister is really trying to do the right thing, but the Ministry, Wizengamot, and Auror force are too cumbersome and set in their ways for them to be effective."

Bill just nodded silently and let her talk.

"His effort to cleanse the Ministry was ingenious – really! But it will take time, losses, and hopefully only a few deaths before we'll be effective as a fighting force. Until then, wizarding Britain needs to exercise self defense."

Bill nodded again in agreement. "History shows that it isn't ministries that end reigns of dark lords. It's likely that the one who will kill You-Know-Who at the end won't be a Ministry man."

"Harry," Tonks mumbled under her breath. "We need to prepare him, and we need to do it fast."

"It _is_ our friends and families who are fighting to gain him the time."

"But we can't push him too hard. He blames himself as it is. He must be ready before taking his stand against You-Know-Who, or all will be lost."

"He will be ready, Tonks. He will be ready," Bill said softly and went out of the room, leaving Tonks behind to look after Remus, who rushed out before she had a chance to talk with him.

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"Just a shower, Hermione," Harry said as he felt her hand on his shoulder. He was tired and sweaty and just needed a short respite. "I promise you it will be a short one and then you can take me anywhere you like and talk with me about anything you need to for as long as you like. Just a shower and then I'm yours."

"You should play a little more hard to get, you know?" She smiled impishly. "You're selling yourself too low – giving yourself totally for just a shower?"

"Oh hush, you," he answered, "or else I'll come like this and you'll be forced to suffer my smell all evening long."

Hermione made a mock horrified face. _Actually_ she thought, _I'd never know if it was him or me I was smelling_. That thought sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. "No, please – not the odor! take all the time you need."

She climbed up the stairs to her room, where she was surprised to find Tonks sitting on the floor by her door, waiting for her. "Hi, Hermione," she said and reached out her arm for Hermione to help her to her feet. "I need your help," she added softly.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had taken the community leaders of London thirty long years to come up with a feasible plan for the London Metropolitan Railway, also known as the MetR, but much better known as "The Tube". There were two main reasons for the implementation of such an extravagant means of transportation. The first was the sad fact that the British Railway – the pride of the British Empire – was not able to lead passengers into the heart of London, a feat which had been easily achieved by the French. The other reason was that they needed something impressive to show at the Great Exhibition, and the Crystal Palace was just not "it". It took twelve years to come up with the necessary funds and open the first line to the public.

Together with an efficient and inexpensive metropolitan transportation system, the London underground introduced to the public two new modern concepts – to avoid adding to the difficulties of steam operation in a tunnel, the MetR banned smoking from its carriages, a feat followed by the introduction of the first ever designated smoking carriage. Technical progress enabled the construction of the first deep-level tube lines, which, in part, enabled the tube lines to cross the Thames underground. Later on, deep-level tube lines were revealed to be a blessing, and many tube stations were used during WWII as air-raid shelters, saving tens and maybe hundreds of thousands of lives. These days, the London underground incorporates twelve lines spreading over some 250 miles of railway, and driving about three million passengers a day, into, out from and around London.

The point of this lengthy description is that all that has nothing at all to do with magic. Unless you insist on considering the fact that the late Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Founder and Secret Keeper of the Order of the Phoenix, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, had a scar in the shape of the London Underground map above his knee.

Susan emerged from the tube station in the late afternoon and smiled as she watched the bustle of downtown London at the end of the working day. She was quite pleased with herself for having managed to arrive at the right place, on time, using that strange thing underground.

"Sir?" A man in a business suit walked past her, not giving her any notice.

"Excuse me, sir?" Two more men, both carrying their secret agent cases, walked by, affecting not to see her.

"Can I help you, dear?" Susan turned to see an elderly woman dressed in a cream and white dress and wearing a large hat, looking at her kindly.

"Thank you, ma'am," Susan smiled back. She took a note from her bag and gave it to the lady. "I'm looking for this place," she said, indicating the address written on the note. "It should be here somewhere, I think?"

"Youngsters!" the lady huffed. She pointed Susan toward a large black door a couple of houses down the street. "Always drunk!"

Susan looked in astonishment at the back of the departing lady, shrugged, and ran to the indicated place.

"Bradley!" she cried happily, spying him through the window, and she opened the door and walked briskly toward her friend.

Bradley was sitting at the bar having a pint with an older bloke, who looked to be made by the same product line. Both were wearing their three-piece dark striped suits over dark blue shirts and wearing their Cambridge ties. They even looked like they went to the same barber.

"Sue!" he beamed at her, puling out a bar chair for her to sit on, and waving at the barman for another pint. "Susan, I'm pleased to introduce you to my dear friend, Nick. Nick was doing his MBA while I was studying for my Bachelor's in economics. We met in the rowing club. Nick, Sue here is your boss, though she doesn't know it."

"Is she?" For a moment, Nick looked extremely disturbed. "Does she know about the work I'm doing for her, then?" The puzzled look on Susan's face served only to make him even more concerned.

Bradley laughed it off. "I don't believe Sue understands the technicalities of your work for us, but I assure you that you are attaining the explicit goals she's set." He turned to Susan, noting that her expression had become even more puzzled. "Do you remember our meeting at Ironblaze's office?" he asked, waiting for her to nod. "Do you remember what our goals were?"

Once again she nodded. "We wanted to lose—"

"Not here, dear, people might hear us and then our plan won't work. Do you still want that?"

"Sure. I just don't know how we're going to do it."

"This is Nick's job. He's been working on it for three years now."

Nick nodded solemnly.

"Now, enough with work talk!" Bradley said happily. "How is Singapore these days?"

"Ah, so wonderful! The Chinese girls are as beautiful as ever, the weather is lovely this time of the year, and the whole of Southeast Asia is only a short flight away. I've seen more tropical beaches in the last six years than I ever dreamed of. It's a pity that I'll have to come back to dear old rainy England so soon. So," Nick said as he turned to Susan. "You're the young woman who's bewitched my dear friend so?"

"I assure you," she responded smiling, "there was no love potion involved."

Bradley gulped audibly, making Nick laugh even louder.

The conversation flew for another hour or so, then Nick made his excuses to leave. "Sorry, mates – have to fly to the other side of the world tonight. I guess you'll hear of my work during the next week. I believe it will cause quite a stir in the world of finance. I just hope you still talk to me when I come back." He smiled at Susan and kissed both her cheeks, shook Bradley's hand, and went out to the street.

"Do we have any plans for tonight?" Bradley asked, looking at Susan intently.

"Not really," she answered, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Brad," she said softly after taking a long moment to calm her nerves. "I know that last week when I told you I couldn't stay the night at your place, you were disappointed, and a little hurt."

"Sue! It's—" he started to reassure her, but was stopped by her soft hand on his lips.

"I wanted you to know it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me."

The hurt look in his eyes showed her she was giving him the wrong message. "Sorry, I'm saying this all wrong," she said, taking his hand in hers. "I've spent the last week preparing my home for you. Will you come to my place and let me explain?" she asked, looking into his now smiling eyes.

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"Library?" Harry was clean and refreshed and felt almost ready to be handled by his friend.

"The library, I think," she answered, and took out a pen to make them a Portkey."

"Let's use my pen. It will save us the walk from the gatehouse. I just need to have a word with Neville for a moment."

Ten minutes later they were sitting in Luna and Hermione's favourite reading corner, in front of the large French doors overlooking the meadow and forest edge. Outside, the world kept raining, making the library seem warm and cosy.

Harry took a long look around. He wasn't as obsessed with books and learning as his best friend was, yet the huge Ravenclaw library was impressive and caught his eye. It radiated power – the power of knowledge. There are many ways to demonstrate power to the world. There is the power of money, displayed by the cost and layout of furnishing, clothing, and accessories. The power of wealth can also be displayed by the exhibition of leisure time and charitable giving. Political power is displayed by the people who seek the holder's company. It can be exhibited vulgarly by holding extravagant parties and balls, or played delicately by cultivating a small circle of close and personally powerful friends and associates. If he ever needed to demonstrate power, the library, in Harry's eyes, was an impressive yet understated way to do so.

"Before I forget this," Harry said, and he handed Hermione a large pocket-watch. It had an extremely elaborate front with a twenty-four-hour cycle and a moon phase display. The watch's back was transparent too and revealed a dial display of the year, month, day, and hour. "Use it carefully. Ironblaze asked one of his treasure assessors to have a look at it. He says it's Hindu and should be able to take you up to a fortnight into the past. Whatever you do, don't let it fall into anyone else's hands. I'll keep the other one safe."

Hermione nodded, attached the watchband to her belt, and pocketed it carefully, without saying a word.

Harry sank into the nearest couch with a loud sigh. "It's a lovely place here, is it not?" he said, looking around interestedly. A small "pop" indicated the arrival of three house-elves. The younger of them carried a large, heavy tray with a tea set, cold butterbeers, sandwiches, and biscuits. The elf bowed deeply as Hermione thanked him, and faded into a nearby shadow.

"Lady Ravi!" Harry smiled at the old elf standing in front of them. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry I couldn't visit more often."

"It is of no consequence, my lord," she answered bowing deeply. "We are happy enough just to know that the lord of the castle is alive and aware of the place. Have you met Sami yet? Sami is your librarian."

"My lord," said the third elf, bowing deeply.

"I've heard a lot about you." Harry smiled at the ancient elf. "Hermione said you're doing wonderful work here, and that you're a huge help."

"I am just proud to serve milord and his friends."

"Would you care to join us?" Hermione invited the elves with a smile. "We're here to discuss few things and could benefit from your input."

Both elves looked at Harry for confirmation, and seeing him smile welcomingly, conjured straight chairs to sit on.

"It's a nice place here, if a little intimidating," Harry remarked to Hermione. "It fits you both nicely, but did you check the place for Nargles? They're known to swarm in places full of old unknown artefacts."

Hermione looked bemused, but Luna smiled happily. "I didn't know you paid so much attention to your magical creatures, though you shouldn't be concerned – Nargles only thrive in places of ignorance and uncertainty, like mistletoe branches. They can't survive in libraries."

Harry smiled. "So what are we here to talk about? There was something said about using me as a guinea pig," he said, and added "again" after further thought.

"We were having a little taste of research regarding the true essence of magic. Do you remember the silver and golden arrows you conjured for me?"

Harry nodded with a perturbed feeling that he knew what it was about.

"Well, according to the laws governing magic, that wasn't possible. I can't do it, Professor McGonagall can't do it – I checked, and got a lecture in response from a very disappointed lady. Hell, even Professor Dumbledore couldn't do it."

"So what am I? Some kind of a magical freak?"

"No," Luna answered softly. "You're a very capable wizard with no knowledge about the laws of magic. If you did know about these laws, you probably couldn't have done magic without the use of a wand."

"I can't do—" Harry started to object, but was cut short by Hermione.

"I saw Tonks try to sting you this morning at training. Did she get you?"

"No," Harry answered, confused by the seeming irrelevancy of the question. "I had my shield on as usual; otherwise it's just painful to train in her presence. That witch is just plain vicious!"

"And you did the casting at two targets drill?"

Harry nodded, still confused by the irrelevancy.

Hermione smiled softly. "If you were casting at two targets at once, what wand did you use to hold your shield up?"

"?!"

"Do you remember Dumbledore's memory of his visit to Tom's orphanage?" Luna asked next.

"I've done my best to forget it," Harry mumbled. "He was using his magic to abuse and frighten his fellow orphans."

"Did he have a wand back then?"

Harry looked at her in disbelief. "So I'm a magical freak like Voldemort now?"

Once again, Hermione smiled at Harry reassuringly. "Recently we were looking at a very interesting book written by Helga Hufflepuff. Contrary to common legends, it appeared that she was the most capable and knowledgeable witch of the four Founders of Hogwarts. She, too, could do a little magic without her wand, mostly when she was a bit frustrated."

Harry thought about his first attempts at charming Portkeys and nodded in understanding.

"Do you know what you three have in common?"

Harry looked even more puzzled than before.

"You three are very capable wizards who discovered your magic without formal, structured guidance," Luna said in answer to Hermione's question.

"I started thinking about it after our visit with the Headmistress yesterday morning. Do you remember what we talked about right before leaving?" Hermione asked.

Harry stopped to think. "It was something about Muggleborns who don't go to Hogwarts. I see – the sorceress!"

"Right," Hermione smiled, "and Professor Dumbledore told us that since she wasn't formally educated, she developed her own magic."

"So? You think wizards who don't know much about magic can do without a wand? That can't be 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' –he can do it, too!"

"It's not about doing magic without a wand. It's even not about winning the war against Voldemort," Luna answered. "It's about truly understanding magic. And if we can get even one step ahead in that direction, that's more important than anything else, Harry. Then, if we can understand magic, it might be the power Riddle knows not."

"The thing is, we need help. We just can't do it all by ourselves. We need someone to work with us so we can work on our other missions, too."

"So? What do you need from me, then?"

"Playing the guinea pig from time to time," Hermione said, smiling.

"And permitting us to bring help here. We're doing some important magical research, and we think it's important to keep it going while we deal with the war on Voldemort."

"Are you really certain it's that important?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "What do you think is the largest problem of the magical world?"

Harry wasn't sure, but he was certain Hermione was ready to tell him, so he just waited for her to go on.

"We need to find a way to combine magic and technology, meaning mainly electricity. Look around us! We're surrounded by knowledge but have no means to search through it for the information we actually need. Even Sami here, who's dedicated his entire life to the library, has seen only a tiny fraction of the actual information stored here. Knowledge is power, and in the wizarding world, knowledge is gathered and lost. Generations of great scholars have wasted time redeveloping the same knowledge others developed before them, since they couldn't find the information about the former research.

"But this is only the scholarly point of view. Think about it from a social point of view; technology doesn't work in a magical environment, so those living in the wizarding world know nothing about it. Every time a magical person marries a non magical, one of them has to make a huge sacrifice. Muggleborns must separate themselves from their families to live in the magical world. Wizards use magic to keep the normal world away, so they won't have to know about its advancements. It keeps the magical world stagnant!"

Harry smiled fondly at his friend. "After all this, how can I say no?" he asked. "Who are you planning to invite to work with you?"

"We don't know yet. We need a Muggleborn who is intelligent enough and has had very little contact with the magical world since graduation," Luna answered. "He also must be familiar with technology. We thought we'd consult the Sorting Hat for suggestions."

"We also need to be ready to pay that person, if we expect him to leave his work and help us here."

Harry nodded sombrely. "Ron will kill me if I let a stranger come here when he's not allowed. I think you should also invite the Headmistress here, if she'll sign a secrecy contract."

Luna and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Any more problems to solve?" Harry asked, smiling.

"A few actually," Hermione answered solemnly. "We need to find the time to start brewing potions. We've been avoiding it for a while now, but we'll need a large supply of all kinds of potions, and we need some of them urgently."

Harry gave her a questioning look.

"I had a talk with Tonks this morning – Remus is out of Wolfsbane."

"How long does it take to brew?" Harry asked, suddenly looking alert. "The next full moon is—"

"We still have time to prepare it before the next full moon, but we need to start soon. The problem, once again, is that our best brewers are George, Fred, and me, and we're the busiest people in our group. There are some potions like Wolfsbane, Veritaserum, and the like that no one else among us can brew."

"Milord?" came Ravi's hesitant voice. "Can we be of help?"

They all turned to look at the old elf with questioning looks.

"We can help with the brewing of any potion you need. We have a great many elves here in the castle and not enough work for them all. If we could help you and occupy ourselves at the same time, we would be delighted."

Hermione brightened. "Will you ask the one you think would be the best to direct this to come have a word with me?"

"Certainly, milady!" Ravi bowed her head.

"Is there any other way in which you can help us?"

"We do not know, milord," Ravi answered. "Since you do not live here, we have very little knowledge of your needs."

Harry nodded in understanding, apparently deep in thought.

"It's just that we don't really know what elves are capable of. We know elves as a race of subservient house help. I'm certain now that elves are capable of much more than cleaning, but have no idea of the extent of your capabilities."

Ravi nodded to Hermione in acknowledgement. "I do not know how to solve this. Usually a house-elf is in a position to know his master's needs, and, if within his capability, and if his master is treating him nicely, he will try and offer his help."

"Can you go out of this place to visit the house we live in?" Harry asked. "I can allow you through the wards."

"We are _free_ elves, milord," Ravi answered in a dignified tone. "We can go wherever we like, but as to your question, you are our lord. An elf can go wherever his master is, whether the place is warded or not."

"I'm sorry, Ravi. I'm very honoured that you are free and yet willing to help. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"One day," Hermione added, "when this war is over, we'll work together to free other elves who are bound to wizards."

"In the meantime, you're always welcome in our home. I'll ask my friend Dobby, who you've met before, to pay attention and call for you whenever he believes you can help us."

"Sami is invited to do the same. Hermione and I discuss a lot of our problems here in his presence," Luna offered.

Ravi and Sami smiled in appreciation.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once again Harry was alone in his room, working inside his mind. Surprisingly enough, his sheep were quite efficient at clearing his mind of straying thoughts, though they were quite noisy in the process.

_Right – create my defences now._

His book indicated that there was no standard way to protect one's mind, and that the defence method was usually derived from the process of clearing it. The book gave an example of a person who used a candle's light to clear other thoughts away and later built a wall of fire to protect his mind from intruders.

_This sounds efficient, but what am I going to do with my sheep?_

He looked around his mind fondly, watching "his" sheep graze on his straying thoughts. A fire wall sounded like an intimidating barrier to protect one's mind from snooping, but how could he intimidate a prying mind with his sheep?

_I'd more likely bore Tom to death than hurt him in any way._

That might actually be a good idea. For a long period of time, Harry concentrated on his sheep. Since the sheep were his thoughts, he could mould them the way he wanted to. He took the time to infuse them with feelings like fondness, happiness, camaraderie, and warmth; then he created a low wooden fence around the meadow of his mind. The fence was white and was covered with climbing plants with colourful, nice-smelling flowers. Finally he invited his sheep to roam around the fence and jump over it from side to side. Then he looked at his mind in appreciation. His mind was quite a chaotic, if pleasant, place now. Harry would be surprised if Tom was able to stand it, never mind finding his way around.

_I just hope I'll be able to think here at all_, he thought, and watched a new flower appear on one of the bushes just before one of the sheep ate it, looked at Harry, bleated, then jumped happily over the fence.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hi, Justin, how are you?"

Justin raised his head to smile at Hermione, who was approaching his table at the Three Broomsticks. "Fine, have a seat," he invited. "A butterbeer?"

Hermione asked for a pot of tea from the bar owner and sat down at the table. "Did you enjoy your visits last evening?" It was the second evening they had gone as representatives of the school to visit new Muggleborn potential students and their families. Both of them had visited two families each the other day and were about to do the same thing this evening.

Justin chuckled softly. "In the second house we visited, we found a young boy walking around cockily in his newly bought Eton uniform. It was like looking into my own home, seven years back. It's a good thing we joined, though. I realize now that Professor McGonagall knows nothing about the real world, yet she had a sort of dignity about her that made it work with my parents. She was also respectful. Professor Sprout came across as plain barmy, with her dirt-covered wizarding clothes and dismissiveness of anything not of the wizarding world. They wanted to throw us out of the door. Hell, they wouldn't have minded having us out the window, probably. I had to shut her up and then silence the father with magic before he would listen. Then I got him to talk with my father. He's on the Eton Board of Governors – eleventh generation graduate and all that. God help me if not for my older brother. He graduated with honours two years ago to uphold the family's standing in the empire. After that it went quite smoothly. We showed them a little magic, explained that the magic was in the boy's nature, and recommended that they will let him learn to control and harness it in his own best interest."

"Are you so sure of that?"

Justin looked at her quizzically.

"That it's in his best interest," Hermione said. "How is your relationship with your family these days?" she asked softly.

Justin looked at her a little desperately. "It's not that I could keep from having accidental magic episodes while boarding at Eton, is it?"

"We're working on it, Justin. We're going to put electricity in magical households – television, telephones, computers, the works. They won't be able to ignore us after that."

"I'll drink to that," Justin said and raised his bottle.

An hour later, Hermione stood watching in horror as the house of her next appointment burned. Fire brigades fought the flames without any success and shouted about the shape of the smoke above the burning house, which looked like a snake coming out of a skull's mouth. The owners of the house stood on the front walkway looking at the ruins of their home.

"Sorry, Professor," she told Professor Vector. "We'll have to keep this appointment another time. I must go and contact Justin." She was off before Professor Vector could say a word. Hermione's first stop was the address of her next appointment of the evening. She sighed in relief when she found it looking safe and peaceful. Next she went to the pay phone to call Justin.

Luckily he had a new cell phone. Cellular phones were quite new and very expensive, but they were wonderful tools. At times Hermione thought of it as proof that science fiction might come true. She didn't have one because her parents thought it was too expensive a present for a young girl, who couldn't use it most of the time anyway. Justin had one, though. His parents had enough money to not care.

- Justin?

- You too?

- Burned house, Dark Mark.

- Oh damn, damn, _damn!_ Mine were out of the house, so they're all right.

- I'll look into it, but go and check on your other family, just in case. Mine was fine. I left a ward there, so we'll know if someone magical approaches the house.

- Thanks, Justin – I'll keep you posted."

Next, she Apparated back home to Grimmauld Place. She ran to the Floo and crouched in front of it. "Hogwarts, Headmistress' office!" she called.

"Hermione? What is it?"

"Sorry, Professor, not now. Can you tell me who exactly gave you the list of new Muggleborn students?"

"The Ministry – the Department of Education. Wh—"

"Professor, please – I need to know the specific person!"

"It was Emma, Emma Watson. Hermione – what's happened?!"

But Hermione was there no longer. She stopped for a moment at her room and Apparated directly to the Ministry Apparition point. Walking briskly, she approached the security desk. "Hello, Eric," she smiled and handed her wand to the security wizard.

"Hello", he said politely, not recognizing the young witch. "Ten and a half inches, birch, dragon heartstring core," he said, after testing her wand. This was Hermione's second wand. Her personal wand was stashed in one of her dragon-hide armour, and so was safe from detection and summoning unless someone saw her undressed.

"Thank you," she said politely as he handed her wand back. "Can you please tell me where I can find the Department of Education?"

Eric smiled at the polite witch in front of him. "They sit on the third level, but you should hurry – it's a bit late for them."

"I'm looking for Miss Emma Watson."

"I haven't seen her go out yet," he answered, smiling.

"Thanks again," she said and rushed into an open elevator, taking it to the third floor. When she arrived there, she stepped out of the elevator and looked around for further instructions.

"Emma Watson?" she asked an elderly wizard who was walking briskly toward the elevator. He pointed her toward the end of a long corridor without even looking at her. Down the corridor she found a young witch, a little older than she was, packing her personal things, preparing to leave for the day. "Emma Watson?"

"We're out for today," the witch said impatiently. "You must come back tomorrow."

"Emma Watson?" Hermione insisted.

"Just be brief, then," the witch said, and gave a resigned nod.

Hermione closed the office door and wordlessly cast a silencing charm on it. _Snape was right_, she thought to herself in amusement. _It is better to know how to cast silently_.

"Are you the one who sent Headmistress McGonagall the list of potential Muggleborn students?" she asked politely.

"About a week ago," the witch confirmed. "Who are you?"

Hermione waved the question aside. "Did you show the list to anyone else?"

The witch looked reluctant and quite a bit disturbed now. "Who are you exactly? I must ask you to leave and come back another day!"

_Well, I did try to do it nicely_, Hermione thought. "_Impedimenta!_" she whispered as she swiftly drew her other wand from its holster and pointed it at the witch. She walked to the now frightened witch and helped her to her chair. With another wave of Hermione's wand the witch was bound with magical ropes.

Hermione took a small vial from her pocket and showed it to the young witch, who looked terrified now. "Veritaserum," Hermione said softly as she gave the witch few drops of the liquid inside. "Now we will hear the truth," she said, and lifted the curse from the witch.

"Did you show the list of new Muggleborn students to anyone who was not from the Ministry or Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I did," Emma answered in a flat voice.

"Who did you show it to?"

"My fiancée."

"What is his name?"

"Armand Wilkes."

"Why did you show it to him?"

"I was angry that there were so many new Muggleborns to ruin Hogwarts," Emma answered flatly.

"Did he show it to anyone else?"

"He said he would."

"Did he say anything else about it?"

"He said he would see it taken care of."

A few moments later the office door burst open, and three Aurors with drawn wands stood at the entrance.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AN:

This is the standard 'This story is now officially AU' notice. The story was laid out in advance so any changes in order to make it DH compatible are not possible, and frankly - not wanted.

In my story, characters are going to be much more mature, as I believe is appropriate for people who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

To be honest, I have found DH to be entertaining, and well written, but JKR drew her main characters to be so childish that should they have ever been in the situation she had described, they would have been dead before the end of the first third of the story.

And now for the weekly readers' competition -

I'm open for ideas regarding the way magic can be compatible with electricity. To be frank - I don't think much of these 'magical technicalities', but if one of you comes up with a good idea, I will be happy to use it and give full credit for it.

On a more personal note – This chapter carries me over the 1,000K word line. Most of you will see nothing to it, but writing that much in a foreign language (Which English is for me) is a very big effort. An effort I was not sure I am up to when I started this. So, personally, I'm a little happy with this achievement.

This chapter is a bit long compared to my usual chapters. This is because it's a bit on the slow side for my taste, so I kept it going till I got some action in it. For those of you who like action - the next two chapters look promising. For those of you who like romance - the next two chapters look promising too.

Would Hermione be able to get out of the tight spot? Would she be thrown into Azkaban for the illegal use of a listed substance under the Control and Regulation of Non-Household Limited Substances Act? Would Luna come to her rescue, riding the last surviving Crumple-Horned Snorkack? Can Susan possibly smile even more?

All these and much more, in the next episode of…


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Harry?" Emma stood in the living room doorway and peered in hesitantly. "Sorry to interrupt," she added.

Harry was doing his Occlumency practice at the time, which made him look preoccupied. It took him a very long moment to come back from the bottom of his mind and return to reality.

"No problem at all. Just your regular daydreaming," he answered, smiling at her. During the last few weeks he had grown found of Hermione's parents. Actually, he almost couldn't grasp the fact that it had only been three weeks since they'd returned from school.

"Harry, I know you're busy, you all are, but do you have any idea where Herms is?"

"Herms?"

"You don't really expect me to call her Her-mi-o-ni all the time? Forever? You know, back then I thought it was a wonderful, unique, and intelligent name, but right now, I'm not sure what I was thinking! I'm afraid to ask Hermione what _she_ thinks about my state of mind back then," Emma said in exasperation. She looked so much like Hermione that he couldn't hold back his chuckles.

"Right, sorry for asking," he said raising his hand in surrender.

"So?"

Harry was lost for a moment.

"Do you know where she is?"

Harry looked at her, a bit confused. "As far as I know, she went to Hogsmeade to meet with one of our professors and visit new Muggleborn students with her. Later on she usually goes to the Library. Is something wrong?"

It was Emma's turn to look – uncomfortable? troubled? Probably "ill at ease" was the best way to describe it.

"I'm not sure," she said with a hint of hesitation in her voice. "I saw her about an hour ago. She came out of the library and went up the stairs to her room. She looked…." Emma paused, looking for the right descriptive words. "Determined," she finally said. "And she had that small smile of hers. But nothing but coldness in her eyes, I don't know how exactly to describe it…" she trailed off.

"She was furious," Harry summarized, losing his smile.

"I've watched and haven't seen her come down from her room, but she's not there any more."

"Let me check with Luna," he said, just as the hearth blazed green. In the fire was Headmistress McGonagall's face.

"Mr. Potter! Have you seen Miss Granger?"

"No, Professor. We've just noticed her missing. Did anything happen?"

"There was an attack on the houses of two of the Muggleborn families we were set to visit this evening. She asked for forgiveness, left Professor Vector there on the Welsh Muggle street, and Disapparated away. This behaviour is so unlike Miss Granger that I became worried for her."

"Thanks for the call, Headmistress. We're looking for her now and we'll notify you as soon as we know where she is," Harry answered politely, and took his head out of the tickling fire. He did hate the Floo with a passion. As soon as the fire turned its normal merry yellow and orange, Harry's expression lost all of its residual peacefulness and turned focused and purposeful. "Dobby!" he cried. Seconds later his friend was there. "Can you please go to the castle to see if Hermione is there? If she is, ask her to come here. If she isn't, ask Luna to come."

At that precise moment a young elf appeared in the room with a soft "pop". He bowed deeply and handed Harry a note. Harry didn't know the young elf but his uniform, which proudly displayed the Ravenclaw coat-of-arms on his chest, was a clear giveaway. Harry stopped Dobby and took the note from the elf with an acknowledging nod.

"It's from Luna," he said curtly and handed Emma the note. "She wants to know if we know where Hermione is. She says Hermione was supposed to be at the Library about an hour earlier and she's getting worried," he said. "I'm getting worried too," he mumbled to himself and turned back to the elf, who was still standing in the corner of the room, doing his best not to be observed, as he waited for a reply. "What's your name?" Harry asked gently.

"Tilly, Milord Ravenclaw," the elf answered, bowing again and looking even more concerned than before.

"Thank you for coming, Tilly. Can you please go back to Luna now? Ask her to come back here as soon as she can. Also tell Sami and Lady Ravi that if Hermione arrives at the castle later on today, they should tell her to come here too."

The young elf bowed again and disappeared from sight.

"Dobby? There's no need to go to Luna now, but see if you can find Bill, Fleur, and Ginny, also Remus and Neville, and ask them to come here. We might need their help."

Dobby nodded solemnly and disappeared without a sound.

"I'm sure she's all right," Harry said, turning back to Emma. "She's probably just gone out to buy something, or to have a cup of coffee."

By then Dan had come into the room. He stood behind his wife, holding her hand and listening in on the conversation. Emma gave Harry a questioning look.

"Right, that didn't go well," Harry mumbled to himself.

"It's just not like her to disappear without giving anyone any notice; certainly not for something trivial like a cuppa."

"I know!" Harry agreed. "She probably _did_ notify someone about her whereabouts, we just need to find out who," he said in frustration.

"Maybe Justin will know something?"

Harry looked doubtfully at Luna, who'd just walked into the room. "She did the visits with him, he might know something," she remarked in an even, detached voice.

_That's probably Luna's way of showing anxiety,_ Harry surprised himself by thinking. He nodded in understanding.

"Where's Hermione?!" Neville rushed into the room, a bit short of air.

"Wouldn't we all like to know!" came Dan's sarcastic response.

"We don't know. We're looking for her," Emma explained, and gave Dan an exasperated look, which showed just where Hermione's genes came from.

"Do any of you know how to contact Justin?" Harry asked.

Luna shook her head silently. "You can owl him," Neville suggested meekly.

_Great!_ Harry sighed. "I want to talk to him right now. Not to get his response tomorrow morning!"

"Maybe he's on the Floo. I'll go and ask Hannah – she's a closer friend with him than me. It's a shame, though, that Susan isn't here," Neville said and left the room to use the library fireplace.

_It's unbelievable that wizards can't communicate more efficiently! _Harry thought, getting more and more frustrated. "Telephone!" he cried, earning himself bewildered looks from everyone around the room. "He's Muggleborn," Harry explained. "Surely they have a telephone at home. Dan, can you go to the phone-box and see if you can get Justin on the phone? He's a Finch-Fletchley from Kent. There can't be too many of those, can there? When you get him, ask him…well, you know what to ask him." He looked at Dan, who rushed out of the room, then turned to Luna. "Please go with him," he asked softly. "We don't need any other problems, and I don't want him alone on the streets near here."

She nodded silently, smiled her small private smile, which, for a moment, Harry found to be reassuring, and went out to follow Dan.

"Hannah says he's not on the Floo," came Neville's subdued voice from the doorway. "She told me that she'll owl him for us and ask him to Floo us here. She says that he lives not far from her farm, so if he's home he should contact us in about a couple of hours."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry answered absent-mindedly.

"And she asked me to say 'hi' for her. She says if she can help in any way…." Nevilled trailed off.

Harry just smiled thankfully. Then the smile disappeared from his face. "Where else can we try and look for her?" For a moment he clutched his head in his hands in annoyance. That was Hermione's department – thinking about solutions. Thinking, period, to be frank about it.

"**Hermione! Where's Hermione?**"

_Oh, bloody hell! Not him!_ For a moment, Ron's presence irritated Harry. There was no reason for it, truly. It was just that he didn't need the high maintenance Ron's presence required just then; he tried to rationalise his irritation and knew he was lying to himself. There just wasn't time to ponder that fact right then, so he let it slip.

"She left without notice about an hour and a half ago, and we're becoming worried," he explained, trying to keep his voice even and calm as much as he could. _Bollocks "calm" – I want to shout at someone!_ he thought to himself. _Shouting wouldn't help us now,_ another, calculating part of his mind argued – the same part that he usually left idle, in cases of emergency, and left Hermione to deal with the thinking and planning. _Hermione!_ he prayed soundlessly,_ where are you? Why did you go without telling anyone where you are?_ "We're trying to locate her, or at least understand where she might have gone," he explained to his friend.

Ron nodded in understanding and thankfully stayed silent.

Harry shook off his gloomy thoughts and determinedly went back to the fire. "Hogwarts," he ordered, "Headmistress McGonagall's office!"

The Headmistress' surprised face appeared back in the green fire. "Did you find Miss Granger?" she asked.

"No, Headmistress," Harry answered. "We're still looking for her. Last time she talked with you, did she say anything of importance?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I don't believe so, Mr. Potter," she said. "She just asked me about the list of new students."

"What exactly did you tell her?" Harry asked, with _that _feeling creeping up his spine.

"Nothing special, Mr. Potter. I only told her that I had received the list from the Department of Education. Miss Granger insisted on knowing the specific person who gave me the list. I told her it was Emma Watson. That is when Miss Granger disappeared from the Floo without another word, and I started to worry."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as calmly as he could. "I'll keep you updated."

"She asked McGonagall about someone in the Ministry, the Department of Education," he said to the people around him.

Just then Dan rushed back into the room, nearly as quickly as he had left it. "He doesn't know where she is," he said, a bit out of breath. "He wasn't home, but he has one of those mobile phones on him, so we could talk to him. He said there was an attack on houses on both his and Hermione's lists to visit this evening. He said Hermione called him on his mobile phone, but she only asked him if anything had happened to the families on his list, and promised to keep him posted."

"We talked again with Hermione's Headmistress," Emma told him quietly. "She said Hermione asked her about some woman from the Ministry of Magic, before she disappeared."

"Do we know the woman?"

"We can ask Dad," Ginny suggested. With Harry's approval she went to the fire and held a quick consultation with Arthur Weasley, then leaned back out of the flames to report. "Dad says he doesn't know her, so she's probably a new employee. He says he could ask about her in the morning, if we want him to." With a nod of approval from Harry she went back to the fire and her father's face, which still nestled there.

"So, what now?" Emma asked, troubled.

"We can't do anything about the witch. The Department of Education is closed at this time."

"We must do something!"

Surprisingly, Harry found this outburst from Ron reassuring. _But what _can_ we do? _Harry pondered.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir?" the polite, soft voice of Dobby shook Harry out of his thoughts. "It's mistress Tonks, sir. She is on the entry hall fire."

"Is it important?" Harry asked Tonks when he got to the fireplace downstairs. "We're in a bit of a crisis."

"You bet it's important. It's Hermione. She's in the Ministry's holding cells!"

For a moment Harry didn't know if he should be worried or relieved. The sound of Emma's sigh of relief told him someone had made the choice: an imprisoned Hermione was far better than a dead one.

"What happened?"

"I don't know!" came the frustrated answer. "I just came back from a training outing with my squad to see three Aurors throw Hermione into the holding block. I tried to ask what it's all about, but they just told me to bugger off and mind my own business. These were Aurors from the Minister's own guard, so I had no authority over them. Not that I have much authority here anyway – I'm too fresh as a senior Auror to make waves."

"I'll come looking for her in the morning, then, shall I? What time does administration start working? I want to be there as soon as they open."

"Harry, you don't understand! They called for the Minister. In about an hour they're going to interrogate her with Veritaserum!"

Harry blanched. "Just delay them a little – I'll be there in a moment," he said and rushed to his room.

"Doesn't that mean Herms isn't in danger?" Emma asked, looking confused. "So she'll spend the night at the Ministry, but nothing bad will happen to her, right?"

People around the room looked uncomfortably at her, then at each other.

"I'll go dress. Tell Harry to wait for me before he goes to the Ministry. I'll do the 'Lord Longbottom' thing," Neville said and rushed out of the room.

"What's going on?" Dan asked suspiciously.

"She knows too many secrets," Luna finally said in a soft voice.

Dan gave her an inquiring look and urged her to go on.

"The Minister is desperate to know what Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry have kept and are keeping from him. He's going to use Veritaserum to pull the secrets out of her," Ginny explained.

"Veritaserum?"

"A truth serum."

Emma and Dan nodded in understanding.

"Hermione is the last person we can allow to be interrogated. She knows too many secrets," Ron said fervently.

Luna nodded silently. _Ron can't even begin to imagine just how right he is_, she thought. "And there's the contract she signed," she said.

"Contract?"

"Secrecy contract. If the Minister forces her to talk using Veritaserum, she'll break her contract, and it's not a good idea to break one of Hermione's contracts."

"Say that again." Ron agreed, the picture of Marietta's face in his mind.

"Right, I'm going to the Ministry to get her," Harry cried from the corridor outside.

"Wait for Neville!" Ron cried back, catching Harry before he managed to disappear from the house. "He wants to go with you. Just went home for a moment to dress for the occasion."

"I'm here! I'm here!" Neville cried from the hall and rushed in. "Ready to go?"

Harry nodded, looking at Neville from his head, on which he wore a brown pointy hat, to his dragon-hide boots, noting the Wizengamot robes he was wearing.

Neville shrugged. "We might need to remind the Minister that we hold too many votes in the Wizengamot for him to alienate us for no serious crime."

"Dragon-hide battle suit underneath?"

Neville nodded.

"Second wand?"

Neville nodded again.

"The Minister did a respectable work in clearing the Ministry of Death Eaters, so I don't expect a fight, but we should probably be ready for anything. WE CAN'T LET THEM GIVE HERMIONE VERITASERUM!" Harry stressed. "If I must, I'll take her out of there by force."

"I just hope her offense wasn't a serious one. I just can't see Hermione as a criminal."

"Right, then."

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Harry handed Neville his pen to touch and in a second later they both disappeared without a sound.

"Can you imagine Hermione in a striped prison uniform and a ball and chain?" Ron asked of no one in particular.

There was a very long silence, and then they all heard the sound of Dan's quiet chuckle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Ministry Atrium was silent, deserted, and dark as Harry and Neville arrived noiselessly. Harry set them to appear right behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren, to hide their arrival from the eyes of anyone standing at the security desk. Lights around the Atrium lit by themselves, seconds after their arrival, illuminating the large empty hall with eerie firelight. For a moment Harry wished for neon lights. Their footsteps echoed in the great hall as they walked past the unmanned security desk toward the lifts.

"So much for security," Harry mumbled as they went past.

"No wonder a bunch of kids managed to stroll into the most secure department of the Ministry without any interruptions."

"No wonder the Death Eaters manage to do whatever they like around England…."

They entered the lift and Harry gave Neville a quizzical look.

"Level four," Neville said, and the lift closed and started to move.

"Level four?"

Neville shrugged. "Originally, the holding cells were dedicated to creatures," he explained.

"So when there's a problem with anyone held there, the Auror help is two stories away?"

Neville shrugged again.

"Even after six long years, wizards still amaze me," Harry mumbled.

The fourth floor was as deserted as the rest of the – Ministry building? underground complex? Harry didn't know how to describe it. For all he knew, the different levels of the Ministry weren't even situated in the same physical location. In the distance they could hear voices arguing.

"Senior Auror Tonks, do you really want me to regret your promotion?" they heard the Minister's voice, carrying over the others.

"No sir, Minister. I just remind you that the administration of Veritaserum is only permitted with the consent of two senior Aurors, or two Wizengamot members in addition to one senior Auror. Since _I_ don't see the importance of dosing a school student, who hasn't hurt a person with such a dangerous potion, I think you should wait for the morning to discuss it with more experienced Aurors than myself," they heard Tonks' respectful response.

"We won't be waiting that long, Minister." Neville and Harry heard a gruff voice they didn't recognize. "Senior Auror Lucas is on call tonight and he's on his way here. Senior Auror Tyler is the duty officer, but he's been detained elsewhere. He too will be here in a couple of hours at the most."

By now Neville and Harry could see that the voice belonged to an elderly Auror who looked to be well weathered. _Probably the kind of man we need in this conflict,_ Harry thought as they approached the small group of men. Minister Scrimgeour stood there, tensed, with an aide at his side. Tonks was her aristocratic blond self, which Harry always found to be impressive and a little bit intimidating. Two more Aurors stood with them, and a person who looked to be from the holding cell security.

"Good evening, miss, gentlemen," Neville greeted them politely as they came near.

Tonks was visibly relieved. The young aide wore the expression of a kid whose parents had just taken away his favourite toy as a punishment. Harry couldn't read the expression on Minister Scrimgeour's face.

"Good evening to you, too," Tonks replied, when it was obvious that no one else would.

One of the younger Aurors looked at them with confusion clear in his eyes. A few seconds later his eyes lit with recognition as he noted the scar on Harry's forehead; a second later the bewildered expression returned to his face.

The older Auror had no such reservations. "Mr. Potter," he acknowledged and turned with a smile to Neville. "Young Mr. Longbottom, or is it Lord Longbottom? Didn't you come of age lately? What brings you here at this hour of the night?"

Neville gave the man a genuine smile. "Harry, this is Auror Kendal Price. Kendal was in the same Auror squad as my mother. He used to visit with Gran and me when I was younger. How are you, Ken?"

"Fair," Price said in a reserved voice. "These aren't good times for the Auror force, but you and your friends help." He gave Harry a pointed look.

"We're only too happy to help."

"Which brings us to the question: why exactly are you here at this time of night?" the aide asked with a tone that tried to be polite but came out as annoying.

"We heard there was a slight misunderstanding regarding a friend of ours so we came to see if we could help solve whatever problem there is."

"Slight misunderstanding!" the aide snorted. "Your_ friend_ illegally used _Veritaserum_, which is a controlled potion under the Control and Regulation of Non-Household Limited Substances Act, on a _Ministry employee!_"

_What is it with Ministers' personal aides that they always end up being the Percy type?_ Harry sighed internally. For the briefest of moments he thought he saw a grimace on the Minister's face, too.

Neville chuckled softly. "That was a wonderful description. Now, I'll be glad if someone would tell us what's actually happened."

"We caught Miss Granger holding Miss Watson, an employee of the Department of Education, against her will and questioning her under Veritaserum," Kendal said with a grave tone.

Neville nodded solemnly. "Did you get hold of the potion she used? What did Miss Watson do to deserve this treatment? And where is Miss Watson, in any case?"

"The potion is here, along with Miss Granger's wand." Kendal took a small vial and a wand from his cloak's pocket. Harry noted with relief that they had Hermione's second wand. She probably still had her own wand hidden somewhere on her.

"Miss Watson is locked in the cell next to Miss Granger. Apparently she gave classified Ministry information to an acquaintance of hers, which resulted in two attacks on the homes of potential Hogwarts students, and the deaths of one of them and his Muggle family."

"And Hermione is being locked up for exposing her?" The sarcasm in Harry's voice was only too obvious.

"Miss Granger is being held for the illegal use ofa controlled potion under the Control and Regulation of –"

"Thank you very much, Montgomery," the Minister said curtly, silencing his aide.

"Can I please see the potion she used?"

"Don't –" the aide started to cry, but was silenced once more by Auror Price as he handed the vial to Neville.

"Lemon," he said, after sniffing the vial, and handed it to Harry under the gaze of everyone's eyes. "Are you sure this is Veritaserum?"

"Harry!" They all turned around to see Auror Stanford striding toward them. "Minister, Tonks," he acknowledged before shaking Harry's hand warmly. "What are we doing here?"

"A friend of mine is being held here for the use of this," Harry answered and handed the vial to Lucas who, in turn, took a long look at it and sniffed it carefully. "Some kind of truth serum?"

"Probably. She used it to expose an employee who leaked information to the Death Eaters, information that led to the death of a new Muggleborn student and his family."

"The attack from this evening? That's a hell of a quick investigation! Why is she being locked up?"

For a brief moment Montgomery looked like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it.

"A very good question," Harry mumbled.

"Because she attacked a Ministry employee and took the law into her own hands," the Minister answered curtly. "I don't like civil militia running around the country and playing at 'fighting the Dark forces'. I didn't like Dumbledore's militia and I don't like yours," he told Harry.

"Dumbledore's militia, as you call them, fought Voldemort –" Harry ignored the visible flinch from most of the people around him, including Minister Scrimgeour.

"Don't say –" the Minister's aide began, but he was cut short by Harry.

"During times when the Ministry did its best to deny his return, and did its best to slander his name and mine."

"I must say, Minister, that Harry and his friends have been an immeasurable help to the Auror force in this recent conflict. Personally, whenever I answer an alert call to find Harry at a site, I breathe a sigh of relief."

"Are you taking good care of the nice Dementor we caught for you? You know it was Miss Granger's Patronus that trapped it first," Harry remarked bitterly.

"All this is of no consequence," replied the Minister. "It is the Ministry's duty to fight and protect its citizens, and we can't do that while each segment of the population fights for itself. Important information is being withheld from the Ministry, which puts us at risk and harms our war effort."

His aide stood behind him and nodded his agreement with enthusiasm.

"In any case, Miss Granger made an offence against a ministry employee and is not leaving our custody unpunished and without a thorough interrogation. If I can't get your approval tonight, I will see to it in the morning. I can take it to the Wizengamot if necessary."

"This is not going to be solved tonight." Neville decided to defuse the situation. "Maybe we should go home and meet again tomorrow morning to discuss it with clear minds. I don't believe this is a matter to bring in front of the Wizengamot," he suggested.

"Can we at least visit our friend to see she's all right?" Harry asked. "I want her to write a note for her parents so they know she's alive and well," he said, taking out his notebook and a pen from his pocket.

"I don't see why not," Lucas answered amicably. "Here – let me walk you through the wards."

"Just let me have a look at those," Auror Price said sternly. "Let me make sure there's nothing improper about them," he added, to an approving nod from the Minister.

He swirled his wand above the notebook and the pen and made them glow. The notebook had a dark blue aura around it and the pen bright purple. "These items are charmed, Mr. Potter," he said sternly.

Hurry shrugged indifferently. "Sure they are. Almost every item we use has one charm or another on it," he said. "The notebook has some kind of security charm on it. If you'll look inside you will notice that you can't read what's written in it. The pen was a regular Muggle pen, so I put an Everlasting Inking charm on it."

Auror Price looked at the Minister questioningly. "It's your decision," he said. "None of these items is a Portkey or has any kind of communication charms on it."

The Minister said nothing, but nodded slightly.

"Come, Harry," Lucas smiled. "I'm sure all this will be solved in the morning. In the meantime, let me show you to your friend." He led Harry through a large double door into a corridor that looked just like a castle donjon. At the end of the corridor stood a large, heavy metal door with a metal square in the middle. Lucas put his hand in the square and stated his name. "The wards recognize the wizard's magic and permit only authorized personnel in," he explained. As a confirmation, the door emitted a loud clanking noise and opened with a long and eerie screech. On the other side of the door was a long line of holding cells, each with thick bars along the front and nothing much inside. Most held captured Death Eaters. At the end of the line, sitting calmly on the bare floor, was Hermione. When she heard their footfalls she raised her head and smiled softly at Harry. Her smile disappeared when Harry didn't return it.

"They want to interrogate you under Veritaserum," he said simply, and noted that she visibly blanched. "I'm going to meet with the Minister tomorrow morning to see if we can find a solution to this mess." He stood there for a short while in silence and looked at his imprisoned friend. "Are you all right?" he finally asked softly.

"Angry? Worried?" She shrugged.

"Here," he said, and passed the pen and notebook to her through the bars. "Write a note to your parents. They're worried sick."

She took it slowly, pausing for a second as she took the pen. "Here," she said, after writing few lines and handing the notebook carefully back to him.

Harry finally gave her a soft smile. "Have a good night," he said. "I'll see you in the morning and we'll sort this mess out."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Was all that really necessary?" Harry asked softly.

It was two in the morning as Hermione appeared silently in her room to find Harry sitting on her bed, patiently reading a book. She turned around and sat beside him without a word, looking at her hands.

"I really didn't need any more disagreements with the Minister, and we need you too much for you to be an escaped criminal," he said softly.

Hermione just shrugged.

They sat there together in silence for very long while.

"I was_ so_ angry!" she finally whispered. "I looked at the burning house and was so angry at whoever decided to put those people at risk. They didn't even have the chance to learn what magic was, and already magic had ruined their home and their lives. I just stood there and was so very angry, I had to do something for them."

"You sound like someone I know."

She smiled at him apologetically. "I'm so, _so_ sorry!" she whispered after another long silence.

Harry shrugged. "I'm going to meet with the Minister early in the morning," he said. "It's not going to be pretty. I just hope I can come to some kind of understanding with him. We really can't afford this factionalism any more. It's just that he insists on controlling all the acts and knowing all the facts, and I insist on not trusting him to do so…."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Hermione." he whispered. "I was going to offer him some of the information, and some kind of cooperation in the war effort, but you just made everything even more complicated," he sighed. "Well – must go to bed. Bugger, I only have three hours to sleep!"

Hermione smiled softly and took his hand. "I think I might help you with this," she said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Erm, what's going on here?"

It was early morning and Tonks was looking at Harry and especially at Hermione with suspicious eyes. "Isn't one of us is supposed to be in the Ministry's holding cells?"

"It's much more complicated than that," Harry sighed.

"I can't support this, Harry," she said in exasperation. "I'm too new in my position to rock the boat. I can't help an escaped prisoner. We're going through monthly statements under Veritaserum, these days. I'll find myself in that cell in her place!"

"Even more complicated than I thought," Harry mumbled. "I'm meeting with the Minister right after morning training. I'll make sure to take you off the hook."

Tonks nodded sternly. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I got angry and did something stupid," Hermione admitted.

"And I couldn't leave her there," Harry explained. "The Minister was set on interrogating her about something that has nothing to do with her alleged offense. She's in on too many secrets to be allowed to be given Veritaserum," he answered in frustration. "In the worst case, she'll have to 'disappear', but I truly hope it won't get that bad. Hermione is too good in a fight for us to have to hide her away. In the worst case, you'll have to tell them the truth – that we're hiding and training in a place you can't give them the address of, and that you don't know where Hermione is. If it comes to that, I'll see to it that you truly don't know where Hermione is."

Tonks nodded in understanding. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?" she asked to change the subject.

"Nope, not much at all," he answered, well aware that Tonks shouldn't be in on too many secrets until a time came when he had some kind of understanding with the Minister.

"Will you be all right?"

Harry nodded tiredly. "I took a mild potion to help me through the day. I'll be fine till mid-day, then probably crash early for the rest of the day." He raised his eyes to see Tonks giving him a very pointed look. "I know, _I know!_" he said. "I told you it was a mild one, and I'm not using it regularly!"

"You girls aren't getting enough sleep."

"We know," Harry just answered.

"And we're looking for a solution," Hermione assured her. "One that won't harm our heath," she added, as Tonks' pointed look turned to her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Minister's office looked stern and furious when Harry and Neville walked in. it's amazing, sometimes, just how an officer's office becomes an extension of its head. The two secretaries busied themselves with all kind of office work. Parchment flew to and from each of their desks, smoothing or folding themselves from or into small parchment airplanes and flying into or out of the office. Two severe looking Aurors stood on each side of the double doors leading into the Minister's inner office, their wands drawn even if lowered. They were looking at the newcomers with unwelcoming and suspicious eyes. In the middle of the outer office stood a large, dark coloured desk, behind which sat Mr. Montgomery "The Aide" Whatshisname, doing very little, and looking as important as he could manage, which wasn't much at all. As they approached his desk, he raised his head. "The Minister will see you when he is free from his morning engagements. You may sit at the lobby until then," he said in an indifferent voice, and went back to what little work he was doing.

Neville and Harry exchanged amused looks. "Erm, Mr. Aide?" Neville asked softly.

"Are you still here?" The aide asked anxiously. "I asked you to wait outside in the lobby, did I not?"

"We're on a very busy timetable," Neville answered in a soft voice.

"We were invited to see the Minister and we will see him on time," Harry added.

"Otherwise we'll be forced to go back to our day's workload and you can then owl us and _try_ to schedule a new meeting," Harry said.

"Right," Neville agreed. "I believe we have some time free at the beginning of October, don't we?"

Harry nodded and looked at the aide with a raised eyebrow.

For a moment, the aide looked almost shaken (Merlin forbid). A moment later, his arrogance was back with a vengeance. "You will sit in the lobby and wait till the Minister can see you."

Harry chuckled softly. "Can you make us a Portkey?" he asked Neville. "I'm a bit tired."

Neville took a roll of parchment out of his pocket. "Timed?" he asked.

"Give him three minutes, I think," Harry said, looking sideways at the aide, "and remember – you need to pay attention to the wards when you do the charm," he added in his teacher's voice.

"I remember it all right," Neville complained under his breath, and a moment later the roll of parchment glowed blue.

The aide looked at them with huge eyes.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Neville asked, looking at him.

"You only have two minutes, forty three," Harry added, taking out the Time-Turner pocket watch.

It took the aide a few more seconds to shake himself out of his stupor before he rushed into the inner office. A couple of minutes later he rushed out panting, "Wait, _wait!_ He'll see you!"

"Just in time," Neville said, shaking his head.

"Twenty-two seconds early, actually," Harry remarked in a dry tone, and pocketed his watch.

"Lets go in, we don't have all day," Neville responded. "Here, keep this for us," he told the aide and tossed him the parchment as they walked past him. They had the time to note the widening of his eyes before he was whisked away by the Portkey. "Hey!" Neville said when one of the Aurors pointed his wand at Neville's face. "I didn't do anything to him, just sent him for a walk."

'Where _did_ you sent him?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Portkey was meant to take us home…" Neville trailed off.

"He isn't keyed to our home wards," Harry pointed out.

"Err – oops?"

"The twins are rubbing off on you."

"What can I say?" Neville shrugged. "I was a canary enough times to learn."

"Here," Harry told the older Auror and tossed a small vial to him. "He'll need something for his headache when he gets back."

The Auror chuckled softly and waved them into the Minister's office. "Well, go in, already. You can't make the Minister wait! I'll do my best to keep him out when he gets back."

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Neville shook his head tiredly as they walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place later in the afternoon. They sat down heavily and thanked Dobby, who put plates of food in front of each of them.

"He just wouldn't listen," Harry finally said. "He wouldn't accept that anyone has the right to fight Voldemort except the Ministry. He wouldn't admit that the Ministry isn't secure enough to keep secrets – well, secret. It was like trying to argue with Professor Dumbledore, but without the twinkling eyes. He listened patiently and nodded sagely, but he'd made up his mind long ago, and nothing in the world can change it."

"There's an order for your arrest now," Neville said, looking at Hermione. "And we have a problem with Tonks. She can't see you since she has to make monthly statements herself. She needs to be able to say under Veritaserum that she doesn't know where you are, or can't tell since she's not the secret keeper. She also needs to be able to say she didn't have an opportunity to arrest you herself.

"I made an alteration to the wards here, so she needs to notify me, or one of the elves here, before she can enter the place. It will give you time to go elsewhere before that happens. I told her about the alteration and explained the reasons behind it – she understands."

Hermione looked miserable. She raised her eyes to look at Harry, wanting to say something, but he stopped her.

"That was a very stupid thing you did last night, and you made our lives a lot more difficult for no good reason," he said sternly.

She tried to say something, but was stopped once again. "I'm tired and I'm going to bed," he said. "Just try to think of something to do to protect the rest of the new Muggleborn students. They're still at risk."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The North Sea is large, grey, and cold. It's cold above the water, where winds from the north carry cold down from the Arctic Circle. It's even colder underwater, where the temperatures rarely rise over 15˚C, making it one of the most unpleasant and unwelcoming seas in the world; yet men kept coming, and they kept making their wars on it. First were the Romans, who sailed a thousand ships, led by Drusus Claudius Nero, to conquer the western end of the world. The fall of the western Roman empire, together with the withdrawal of the Roman legions from the isle of Britain, left behind a power vacuum, which drew in the Germanic Angles and Saxons. Riding the currents of cold water, they arrived to push the native Celtic populations south and to the brink of extinction, making Britain an Anglo-Saxon land. The Germanic tribes were replaced by the Vikings who raided Western Europe, riding the same cold currents, and made the north of Britain their base of power until the rise of the English kingdom.

For almost six hundred years war gave place to trade and the North Sea was established as the main trade route of northern and western Europe, with the establishment of the Hanseatic League. Later on, the Dutch were able to encroach upon the League's politics and monopoly on Baltic trade to leverage their small homeland into the preeminent economic power of the world. For the Dutch merchant marine the North Sea served more as a starting point for their oceanic voyages and trade.

Long years of trade and relative peace were interrupted by the English kingdom, which envied their neighbour's success. The roots of the British naval superpower are set in their defeat of the Spanish Armada under the command of Sir Francis Drake, but the British Empire was built on the back of the Dutch. During most of the second half of the seventeenth century, war raged over the cruel waves of the North Sea. Both Britain and the Netherlands paid tens of thousands of dead to the freezing wind and waters during their thirty-year struggle for world dominance. By the end of the seventeenth century, Britain, which already was "Great" by then, had secured its place in the world as the ruler of the seas.

The twentieth century brought back death and armoured battleships to the waves of the North Sea. Two world wars saw the same strategic situation turn into the same tactical battle. The enormously superior Great Britain's Grand Fleet squashed (with a tragic death toll) all German hopes of upsetting the British mastery of the North Sea and opening the trade routes into the frozen ports of Germany. As a result, Germany initiated unrestricted submarine warfare, and the struggle over the North Sea (and over the whole of the Atlantic) deteriorated into a race between German shipyards, which constructed the U-boats, and the British and US fleets' ability to sink said U-boats. In both wars the Allied fleet prevailed.

Captain William Palmer stood on the open bridge of the _Mary-Sue_, sailing south toward the port of Kingston-upon-Hull, back from the long weeks of struggle on the cold waves of the battlefield of the North Sea. _Mary-Sue_ wasn't a beauty, even in the eyes of her captain, but perfect she was. Since the very dawn of sailing, a ship was always "she" – never "it". No, _Mary-Sue_ had a portly silhouette from which obscure protrusions stuck out in every direction in an unorderly fashion.

Right now, the ship swayed and yawed over the high waves in a fashion that would have sent most land dwelling people to empty their stomachs over the railing, the worst thing to do in this kind of weather. Seasoned seamen knew from very early days that one _never_ leaned out of a ship deck, especially during high seas and bad visibility.

The last three weeks had been surprisingly good for _Mary-Sue_ and its crew. During this time they met very little enemy activity, and the ship was heavy with the spoils of war. _Mary-Sue_ wasn't armoured in any way, nor did she carry guns, rockets, missiles, or any other kind of fire arm. These were the tools of older, less civilized days. No – _Mary-Sue_ waged her war on the waves of the North Sea, armed with state-of-the-art sonar and navigation systems that enabled it to keep its post at the warzone even in the worst weather; a huge refrigerated stock, which enabled it to keep its post for long weeks before needing to make port; and the most sophisticated trawl, capable of fishing deep down to about 800 meters under the surface. Even the friendly ramming of neighbour trawlers sailing from Scandinavia was a thing of the past – the cod wars of the fifties and seventies, and the Cold War, during which the use of firearms against another country's ships was too dangerous and countries fought instead with fish, butter, and wheat.

Will was quite anxious to get to port. Cradling a mug of warm coffee, spiked with a bit of scotch, to warm him up against the cold of the winds and the spray of the sea, he dreamed of his three sleeping children, his wife, and his wife's shepherd's pie. As good as his ship's cook was – and he was good – there was nothing like homemade food to the sea-starved men.

The twinkling shore lights had been visible for a long while now, and the harbour was due with the early morning sun. Will kept his eye on the sea around him and the shore lights on the horizon. He had absolute trust in his navigator, and these water were well mapped and known for more than a millennium now, but one could not be too careful at sea; there were always strange rumours about these waters, some hundred miles north of Aberdeen.

Far ahead he could see the lights of a large ship sailing north, closer to the shore. "Hey, Jimmy!" he called to his bridge attendant. "Do you see that ship, closer to the shore?"

"Aye, sir!" came the reply. "She's in too shallow water for a ship that big."

"Give her a warning, Jim!"

"Aye!"

A moment later, _Mary-Sue_'s powerful fog sirens howled warning signals into the night, and the ship's bright fishing xenons flooded the dark sea with light. Will noticed a group of objects passing silently, low over the bridge; for a moment he thought he saw silhouettes of people, clad in dark clothing and riding some kind of sticks. A moment later it was forgotten, and the dark ship on the horizon phased out and disappeared. _Like the flying Dutchman,_ he thought. Will wasn't superstitious in any way, but he _was_ a sea-man.

Just then a sudden wave of winter-like cold signalled that something _was_ out of the ordinary. William was shaken out of his stupor to find his hand frozen to the open bridge railing and a layer of frost on his head and clothes.

"Hey, Captain! What the bloody hell was that?" came a shout from the inner bridge.

Will looked at his hand in disgust. He was experienced enough to know better than to try to pull it off the iron railing. Actually, he was experienced enough that nothing like this had happened to him in almost fifteen years. "Hey, Jim!" he shouted. "Come out here!"

"Sir? Where did the other ship go? I don't have it on the navigation radar any more!"

"I don't bloody know, sleaze," Will answered. "I've got my hand frozen to the railing here. Come out with a cup o' warm water!" he ordered, trying to sound assured. "Now!"

_I'm never going to live this down!_ he thought in exasperation as he heard the laughter of his crew. He looked around at the dark, empty waves of the North Sea. Later on he looked at the records of the navigation radar. His crew had already started talking. Soon enough they would make port and the story would spread, adding to the rumours circulating about the mysteries of the sea north of Aberdeen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -

On a dreary tower built on a rocky island, some hundred miles north of Aberdeen, far enough off shore that it was often lost in the fog that was so usual in this region, two men recognized the wave of frost immediately. They weren't amused, and red sparks lit the night sky, even before they could see anything. The frost foretold of Dementors, and since Dementors were incapable of crossing the sea, someone was driving them.

Azkaban had been a better place for the last year. True, the prison guards had had to fight off an attack of Death Eaters earlier that summer, but the absence of the Dementors did much for the mental stability and well-being of the guards. They tried not to think about the Dementors' whereabouts or about the people they fed upon, now that they didn't have a supply of prisoners readily offered to them.

For a change, the system worked properly. During the weeks since the last attack on the isle of Azkaban, the prison guards and Auror force had drilled repeatedly on the reinforcement of the prison fortress in case of another attempt on it. Even the most optimistic, or deluded – depending on one's point of view – of the Ministry personnel admitted that it was more a question of _when_ such an attack would take place than _if_.

Tonks was the duty officer at the DMLE when the clear distress signal was received: "Dementors at Azkaban! Send help!" _Damn, damn, DAMN! It just had to happen on my shift,_ she thought, and started calling all active Aurors back to Auror headquarters at the Ministry and into the field. Since Tonks' squad wasn't active yet, she was to stay back at the Ministry building and coordinate the Auror effort during the night. Sadly, with the lack of efficient communications, that mostly meant waiting for the survivors to tell her what had happened.

The first squad left immediately, using a Portkey that dropped them at the outer Warden Office. They would be under the command of the local prison guards. The next group would leave as soon as two squads could be assembled. They Portkeyed into a secondary site, on a hilltop not far from the island, from which they would be able to Portkey into the prison grounds. It was argued, convincingly, that sending reinforcements directly into the battlefield was not a wise idea. Amazingly, the call-up process operated smoothly, but even so it took about five minutes for the first Auror squad to Portkey out and would take some fifteen to twenty minutes for the rest of the force to reach Azkaban Island.

Tonks watched the first squad Port out and went back to the Floo. She had a bad feeling about this attack. Seconds later an elf's head appeared in the green fire. "Wake Harry up and tell him Azkaban is under attack. Tell him we need his help!" she told the vaguely familiar elf and went back to coordinate the reinforcement effort.

The second and third squads were ready to Portkey after just eight minutes. Tonks watched them disappear, only to reappear seconds later supporting two wounded Aurors and missing two men.

"Kleio down! Call for the Healers!" came a cry from an Auror Tonks couldn't identify, who crouched over the body of a fellow Auror, probably Kleio, trying his best to tend her wounds. On the other side of the mission room Auror Colt was doing the same thing over the body of another Auror. Seconds later, witches and wizards in crimson robes ran into the room to tend the wounded. A few spells later, the two wounded Aurors were sent out, probably to St. Mungo's.

"Tell St. Mungo's to be ready and to send a few more Healers here," Tonks managed to cry to the last Healer in the room. He nodded and Portkeyed out with her friend's body, without a word.

"What happened?"

"It was an ambush," replied George Kirrin, who rose from the now bloody floor to come stand by her. "We were attacked the moment we ported in. Kleio's squad ported right into the middle of a group of Death Eaters and was hit immediately. We were lucky to Port a bit to the side and managed a few spells before I ordered everyone out."

"They need you back there," Tonks said and walked to the mission room's wall, which now presented a map of the island and the land in front of it. "Someone must have leaked the emergency plans to the Death Eaters. I'll Portkey you here," she said, pointing at a spot on the map a little farther up the coast. "Take brooms with you, and fly in carefully."

George nodded in agreement. She called Peter Colt, who was sitting in shock on the side of the room, to her and walked toward her men. "Listen up, girls! We're going back in, to a different spot up the coast. Pick up your brooms – we'll have to fly in. Dick! Take this Portkey." She handed the wizard a piece of rope Tonks had given her. "Port in and come out immediately to tell us if the place is safe." Dick nodded solemnly and disappeared. "Ready?" George asked the men who were standing, each holding a wand and a broom at the ready.

"Aye, ma'am!" they responded as one.

"Safe!" called Dick, who Apparated back in.

"Right, then – Peter, you're in charge of Kleio's squad for the rest of the night. Wands in hand; Disillusion charms; in groups of three; go! Go! Go!"

A few seconds later the room was empty once more, and once again Tonks had very little idea of what was going on on the island. _This must be the famous fog of war_.

"Report?"

Head Auror Abigail Clifford walked briskly into the room. Gawain Robards, head of the DMLE, walked behind her but kept silent and to the side.

"Thank Merlin you're here. Fifteen minutes ago we got a call from Azkaban telling us they could feel Dementors and asking for help. I sent the alert squad to the island immediately and Kleio's and George's squads to Hill one. They fell into an ambush. Kleio and one of her men are wounded and were sent to St. Mungo's. Two others are probably dead," she said, her face blank. "They went back in to another spot up the coast with brooms. Aidan and Stan are getting ready as we speak to Portkey out. We have no information at all from the island itself."

"Tonks?" came a voice from the fire.

"Sorry, ma'am," she said, and rushed to answer.

"We're ready. Where do we go?"

"Here." She passed him a long piece of rope. "It will take you to a place on the coast, south of the island. You'll need to fly from there. Be careful – there are Dementors in place, and groups of Death Eaters are ambushing reinforcements," Tonks said in a hushed tone, and rushed back to her superior.

"Who was that?"

_Damn!_ There was no way to avoid the question now. "That was Harry Potter, ma'am. He's on his way to help, along with some friends," she admitted in a low voice.

"Ready!" Aidan called, entering the room with his men in tow.

"Here, use this Portkey to a place a bit to the south on the beach. Send someone to scout before you all Portkey in, and look out. Harry Potter and some friends are there to help."

"Harry Potter?" Aiden asked, annoyed.

"Best news I've heard all day!" Stan stated.

"Ready? Go! Go!"

Thirty seconds later the room was once more clear of all but Tonks and her two superiors.

"Explain," Abigail said simply. It was not an order, it was not a question, it was a statement – or maybe it was both.

_Straight to the point, then._ "There are Dementors out there on the island. We don't know how many. Is there anyone you know except for Harry who can drive off more than a hundred of them with his Patronus? Voldemort might be out there right now," Tonks said, ignoring her superior's slight flinch. "Do you know any other wizard who's powerful enough to hold him off for a while?"

She turned to look at the map on the wall and the silence behind her was all the answer she needed. "I don't want too many of our men to get killed on _my_ shift," she said quietly.

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The actual attack was over even before the first of the reinforcements managed to arrive. The attack plan was simple and straightforward. Dementors swarmed the island, bypassing all the wards and keeping the guards occupied. Unable to fight so many Dementors at once, the guards and the first group of Aurors barricaded themselves inside one of the prison's towers to keep the Dementors away. In doing so, they also kept themselves out of the Death Eaters' way. After the last attempt on Azkaban, all prisoners related to the Death Eaters were transferred into a single ward in one of the towers for better security. Ten minutes into the fight the wards of the prison were breached, a large hole was drilled through the walls of the prison straight into the "Death Eaters' ward", and all of the prisoners in it were flown outside the prison's wards, from where they were Portkeyed away.

Ten minutes later, only about twenty Death Eaters were still on site. A group of ten, mostly newly marked Death Eaters laid an ambush for incoming Auror reinforcements. The battle that ensued with the arrival of Kleio and George's squads was actually much more equal than the Aurors believed. For roughly ten seconds, destructive magic flared on top of "Hill One". By the time the Aurors left the place, leaving two dead bodies behind them, two of the Death Eaters were dead and three, including Severus Snape who was leading the group, were severely wounded. A minute later the Death Eaters Portkeyed out, taking their wounded with them and leaving four dead bodies on the hilltop under a glowing Dark Mark.

The other group of Death Eaters occupied themselves with the Dementors. Dementors are land creatures who travel by a unique method using their cooling effect and gliding on the flows of cold air. Physically speaking, this should not have been possible, but when did wizards ever bother themselves with physics? One of the outcomes of this was their inability to travel over large bodies of water. Sure, Dementors could cross small streams and lakes, using the same cooling effect to freeze the water and create a hard surface for them to float above, but this was not possible at sea.

To transport the two hundred-odd Dementors to Azkaban Island, a group of Death Eaters commandeered a Muggle ferry, using the Imperius curse on the ship's crew, and forced them to sail to the island with the Dementors on board. When the Aurors finally arrived at the island, they found about ten Death Eaters trying to herd hundreds of Dementors back onto the ferry. Five of the Death Eaters fell to the Aurors' surprise attack before the rest of them mounted their brooms and fled to the ward limits to Portkey away.

"Inside!"

George saw her men fighting a futile battle against the hordes of Dementors. Most Aurors were capable of conjuring a corporeal Patronus and could fend off a couple of Dementors by themselves. Ever since the Ministry admitted the return of You-Know-Who, special attention had been paid to Patronus training among the Aurors, but none of them could fend off so many. She looked on in horror as an Auror from her squad was grabbed by three Dementors, his silvery canine Patronus fading from sight as his lost soul screamed until he fell limp to the ground. Both squads on the ground did their best to group together and fight their way to an opening into the prison in hopes of barricading themselves in and waiting for an opening. The squads of Aidan and Stanford did their best to help from above. From their brooms, they sent their Patroni to cover their friends' retreat, but their Patroni didn't last in the Dementor-infested land.

_I don't want to die this way,_ George cried in her mind, watching another of her men fall to the Dementors. She tried to conjure another silvery seagull but got nothing but vapour. She thanked Merlin in her heart as a silvery bird sailed from above to cover her retreat for few more moments. She managed to crowd with a few of her men into a ruined room off the inner yard of the castle, but the room had neither roof nor door. They tried their Patroni once more, but nothing came out. She was tired and she was _so _cold. The last thing George noticed before darkness claimed her was a bright white light flooding the prison's yard. Then she knew nothing more.

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"Georgina? Take this. It will warm you up." George heard a soft, familiar voice speaking to her. She tried to open her eyes but closed them again with a groan when the bright light hurt her eyes. "Here." A hand, probably attached to the source of the voice, thrust a warm mug into her hands. She took a tentative sip, then drank the rest of the hot chocolate hungrily, feeling the warmth spread throughout her body. Feeling better, she risked opening her eye once more and saw the smiling face of Stanford Lucas.

"Hey," he said softly. "I was worried about you for a moment there."

"For a moment there, I was worried about myself," she answered dryly. She accepted his hand and rose to her feet. "What –" she began, but stopped as the sight in front of her was self explanatory. Hundreds of screaming Dementors were being herded by a group of Patroni, led by a bright otter and bear and the largest, brightest Patronus George had ever seen, in the shape of a stag. These were helped by other, "regular" – for lack of a better word – Patroni and herded the hundreds of Dementors into the same enclosure that George herself had tried earlier to use as a shelter from them. Three more, birdlike Patroni descended from the night sky to keep the Dementors from boiling out through the missing roof.

"This isn't a good solution," someone cried. "We can't keep those Patroni going forever!"

"Hermione," George heard another voice cry. "Can you conjure some kind of a cage for them?"

"A cage that big? Why not – give me a week and I'll be ready," was the sarcastic answer. "Anyway, it's not a good solution. Any metal I can conjure will become brittle because of the cold and break too soon. We need something else," she shouted back, over the noise of the screeching Dementors.

"Is this –" George started to ask.

"Harry Potter's Patronus," Stan answered. "It's the first time I've seen it, but I've heard rumours. He's a good friend to have in this damn war; probably a good friend to have any time."

"And that's –"

"Granger," he answered. "Her Patronus saved you and your squad, while Harry's chased most of the other Dementors out of the prison yard."

"She's wanted by the Ministry!"

Stan nodded

"Yet is here to help us?"

He shrugged.

"I think I have a solution!" A sudden cry pulled Stan and George out of their private conversation. "Can you help me with a freezing charm?"

Harry shrugged and flew closer to the ground. For a while everyone watched Hermione use an Aguamenti charm while Harry worked to freeze the water she conjured while in the air. A couple of minutes later, understanding appeared in the watchers' eyes and more people joined to help them. Soon enough, a cube made of foot-thick ice walls, fifteen feet wide and deep, with one face missing, stood in the prison yard.

"Come on! Help us herd them inside, so we can conjure the last wall and lock them in!"

Nearly fifteen minutes of screeching Dementors later, all of the Dementors were safely enclosed inside the block of ice; already the thick walls of ice were growing even thicker, affected by the Dementors themselves.

Hermione sighed in relief, sinking to the ground in exhaustion. "I learned that from Dad," she said, accepting a mug of hot chocolate with a tired smile.

"What? Conjuring water? Conjuring Patroni?"

"No, silly," she smiled softly at Luna, who sat beside her. "The best solution for a complicated problem almost always uses an element of the problem as part of the solution."

Harry smiled back. "Anyway," he said, "we aren't finished here yet. We need to get read of the Dementors – now, before Tom has the chance to set them free again."

"You can't kill a Dementor." Aidan decided to intervene in the conversation, earning himself a questioning look.

"Oh, you haven't been introduced yet," Stanford cut in. "Harry, meet Senior Aurors Aidan Tyler and Georgina Kirrin," he said, ignoring his friend's scowl.

Harry nodded and gave them a very tired smile.

"I don't think I need to introduce Harry to you," Stan went on. "This is Hermione Granger, the infamous criminal, and I don't believe we've met before," he told Luna, smiling kindly.

"Luna Lovegood at your service," she answered politely. "And _my_ father says there is always a way."

"Your father is the Lovegood from the _Quibbler_?" Aidan asked, snorting.

"Did you talk to him about it? What did he propose?" Hermione asked, giving Aidan a dirty look.

"I told him about the first Dementor we caught. He said it's just like every other beast – you can always starve it."

"Which leaves us with the original problem." Harry joined the discussion. "If we keep them inside the ice block they'll starve with time, but how can we prevent Tom from finding them and setting them free?"

"We can throw them into the sea."

"Fidelius!"

"Can we do both?"

"You must choose," George answered. "You can cast the Fidelius charm only on an object that will remain stationary, so you can't cast it on the ice block and then throw it into the sea."

"And I don't know where we can find someone to cast the charm these days. The Headmaster was the only one who knew the charm, as far as I'm aware. Maybe Professor Flitwick can research it, or someone from the Department of Mysteries has an idea. I'll ask about it tomorrow morning," Aidan said.

Harry chuckled softly.

"Sure you can," Hermione replied with the best cheeky smile she could manage in her state of exhaustion. "I developed the runes just the other week, to allow my parents to drive around in their cars while staying hidden. Just give me an hour to calculate the runes for the ice cube."

"Take your time, Herms," Harry said, still chuckling softly.

Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Mother!" she finally hissed.

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Sorry for the short delay - there are few good reasons for it (-;

a) school holiday left me with precious time with my son and very little free time with my computer.

b) Altered Destinies ( is finished, and I just had to read it from the beginning once more.

c)There was the Tennis US-open

d) it's my longest chapter yet, so it took me some time to finish it.

I hope that you'll enjoy it, and if you do - please review!

You can expect next chapter in my usual three weeks time (-;


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**Dementors Captured at Azkaban**

**The Daily Prophet**

**Early this morning, a combined force of Aurors and prison guards managed to capture hundreds of Dementors during a Death Eater attack on the prison island of Azkaban. Sources at the Ministry declared this morning that the public can see the Dementor threat eliminated, as of this morning. "The Ministry and the Auror force are working tirelessly to make Wizarding England a safe place for its citizens," declared Minister Scrimgeour during a press meeting, held in the early hours of the morning on shore near Azkaban Island. "In addition, five of the Death Eaters who attacked the prison last night were killed by the Ministry forces, and five more were wounded and captured and are now being held in the Ministry holding cells pending trials. According to Minister Scrimgeour, the Ministry now holds almost thirty Death Eaters, who will face trials in two days' time in front of a full Wizengamot session. The Ministry intends to reintroduce the death penalty as a punishment for crimes of violence against the Wizarding population which result in the death of a witch or wizard," stated the Minister. When asked by the **_**Prophet**_**, the Minister admitted that some prisoners managed to escape during the fight, and that there are a few casualties among the Aurors called to Azkaban to fight off the Death Eaters' attack; but according to the Minister it was too early to give a clear and full report on the outcome of the night. The Minister stated that whatever the final report will say, we all can see the outcome of last night as a significant win for the Ministry and Wizarding England over the Dark forces of You-Know-Who.**

**Wanted**

**The public is asked to help the Ministry with any information regarding the whereabouts of Hogwarts seventh-year student Hermione Granger. Miss Granger escaped from the Ministry's holding cells early yesterday morning by unknown means. Miss Granger was captured two days ago, inside the Ministry compound, for her assault on a Ministry employee and the illegal use of Veritaserum, which is a controlled potion under the Control and Regulation of Non-Household Limited Substances Act.**

**Miss Granger is considered armed and dangerous. The public is encouraged to practice extreme caution in case of an encounter with Miss Granger, and to contact Auror headquarters immediately with any information as to her whereabouts.**

"Nice picture," Ron remarked drily as he passed the morning _Prophet_ to Emma. "You dressed up that night."

Hermione raised her head from the table just to bang it few times on the hard surface and lay it back on the table, hiding her face with her hands.

"It is a nice picture of you, actually, dear," Emma said softly, looking at the bottom of the _Prophet_'s front page.

"I always knew you would make the front page one day, but I admit to being a bit surprised by the occasion," Dan remarked sarcastically.

Hermione moaned loudly and buried her face deeper under her arms.

"Here," said Luna. "The _Quibbler_ makes a much more interesting read this morning. There are no pretty pictures on the front page, but there is a very interesting follow-up regarding the Hippocamps on page three."

Actually, the _Quibbler_ did make a much better read – quite as usual:

**A Night of Horrors at Azkaban Island**

**The Quibbler**

**Around two o'clock in the morning and for the second time this summer, Azkaban Island was attacked by the forces of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort. Last night's attack was led by a large group of Death Eaters, thirty strong at the least, followed by hordes of hundreds of Dementors. According to the information held by the **_**Quibbler**_**, Azkaban's wards were breached and about eighty prisoners, most of them known Death Eaters or otherwise related to Tom Riddle, managed to escape the island. At first light, an Auror unit scanning the coastline for traces of the attacking forces and escaped convicts located the bodies of about thirty of those prisoners, left on the beach a few miles north of the prison island. Among the list of escaped prisoners are former Wizengamot member Lucius Malfoy, the brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, and Walden Macnair – the latter two both former employees of the Ministry of Magic – and many more, all dangerous witches and wizards who are known to be Riddle's closest supporters. **

**To the best of **_**The**__**Quibbler**_**'s knowledge, at least three of the Ministry men died last night defending Azkaban Prison and fighting off the Death Eaters and the Dementors. A source high among the Auror forces, who for obvious reasons asked to remain anonymous, informed us that the Auror forces were losing their fight against the rogue Dementors and were at risk of losing many more men who were trapped on the ground under attack by the Dementors. Only the unexpected arrival of help, in the form of Mr. Harry Potter and a few witches and wizards loyal to him, turned the tide and enabled Potter's men and the Aurors to round up the Dementors swarming over the prison island. "Most of the Ministry Aurors who fought last night on the island now owe Mr. Potter and his friends their lives," said our source at the Auror command. "It was in fact Miss Granger, who was declared yesterday as an escaped convict by the Ministry, who advised the way for us to free ourselves from the Dementor threat for the foreseeable future." **

**We at **_**The Quibbler**_** encourage the Auror force in their fight to bring back peace to Wizarding England, and we urge our readers to practice extreme caution during those dangerous times of war. **

"Definitely better reading," Harry mumbled after reading the _Quibbler_ article over Emma's shoulder. "The Minister isn't going to like it, isn't going to like it at all."

"Should we try and meet with him again?"

Harry looked at Neville, deep in thought. "I don't _want_ to meet with him again, certainly not so soon after the way our last meeting went."

"We probably _should_ go, though," Luna argued.

"And be arrested for harming the Dementors?" Harry answered, his voice full of disdain. "You're invited to go there yourself."

"Actually, this might be a wonderful idea. But beforehand, would you go and change into something a bit more appropriate?"

"What's wrong with what she is wearing?"

Hermione raised her head at Ginny's question. As had the rest of them, Luna had already changed from her running clothes into her training dress which included her Dragon-hide armour underneath plain, dark grey form-fitting trousers and shirt. It was nothing out of the ordinary and would certainly look adequate under her robes.

"Well, she can't go and see the Minister dressed so un-Luna-like, can she?"

Hermione thought for a moment about what dressing the Luna way meant and it brought a small smile to her face for a short moment; then she buried her face back between her hands.

"I'll be right back," Luna said in a too-cheery tone, and she disappeared in a whisper.

"Right, then!" Harry sighed, getting up from the table. "Since Tonks can't come here to help us any more, we need to train by ourselves."

About the same time, a soft noise indicated Luna's return. "Do you think this is more appropriate, Neville?" came her voice from behind.

All Harry could do was blink. Beside him, Ginny tried her best to hide her chuckles. "Oy!" she cried as Hermione slapped her on the back of her head, not that lightly either, but Hermione couldn't help chuckling softly too, behind her hand, and then dived back to hide her now reddening face between her hands on the table.

Only Ron seemed impressed. "Yay!" he called in encouragement and looked smugly at his friends.

Luna stood in the doorway, wearing her butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings. Her pointed witch's hat was decorated with a large stuffed raven, which would have looked right at home with Gran Longbottom's hat, but that was not what grabbed everyone's attention. As opposed to many wizards and witches, who couldn't match colours to save their lives, Luna's costume was made of perfectly matching shades of orange, from pastel peach to Chudley Cannons' shocking.

"Perfectly suitable," Neville answered in a no-nonsense tone, and seconds later they were both gone.

For about fifteen minutes the Grimmauld Place kitchen roared with laughter. They did try to stop, and almost succeeded a few times, even; but every time they_almost_ managed to get hold of the laughter, someone would let loose a chuckle, and it's a well known fact that laughter is contagious. Finally, the last of the chuckles died.

"Right, then, we need to go and play with some magic. Come," Harry said, clapping his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Let's test your shield and foot work."

Hermione raised her head to give Ginny a pleading look. Harry was clearly still quite angry with her and in a bad mood altogether. He wasn't someone you wanted to test your shield at the best of times, and least of all when he was angry.

Ginny grinned cheekily at Harry in a way that showed she was obviously from the same basic gene pool as her twin brothers. Sometimes Harry was actually surprised that Molly and Arthur managed Percy and Ron using the same genetic material too. "Good idea," she said, getting up from the table and stretching in a very cat-like way. "Let's go test Harry's shields."

Hermione groaned and hid her face in her hands again before getting up and walking out of the kitchen, looking more like a condemned person than a cheery young woman going to play with her magic.

Emma stopped Harry at the door. "You will bring back my child in one piece," she said in a tone that managed to sound both commanding and pleading all at once.

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry saluted, raising an imaginary hat off his head and winking at her.

All around the kitchen people got to their feet to go to their morning magical training. A few weeks ago they would have gone there with the same level of enthusiasm with which a Hogwarts student went to detention with a certain former Potion teacher, but the few weeks of magical training did wonders for them all. They were no longer out of breath after just a short period of magic use, and even if their magical reserves varied they all showed huge improvement. The improvement in the actual use of magic was quite clear – every single one of them now knew how to Apparate, create a Portkey, use a couple of shields, use magic without speaking the incantations – and most of them even without dedicated wand movements – even thought Harry knew that some still said the incantations in their minds or even whispered it under their breath. The most amazing improvement, though, was in their confidence. Hermione knew very well how important the confidence factor was in the complicated equation that led to the successful and effective use of magic.

They were walking up the stairs when her father's voice carried out from the kitchen.

"**I can't believe it!**"

Running back into the kitchen, they saw Dan reading a large salmon-pink paper, shaking his head in disbelief and mumbling things like "without notice," or "crushed," or "seven hundred and fifty million!"

"Dad, what happened?"

"It's the Barings Bank! It collapsed after losing more than seven hundred and fifty millions pounds overnight in Singapore," he said, still in shock, and handed her his copy of _The Financial Times_. "It's England's oldest merchant bank," he added in astonishment.

"Did we have any money there?" Emma inquired worriedly. They hadn't yet managed to sort all the procedures regarding the destruction of their home, and another financial hit was the last thing they needed.

"Hey, that's Nick!" Susan exclaimed, pointing her finger at a large picture of a smug looking young man at the head of the front page. She took a step back as everyone turned slowly to look at her. "What? He's a friend of Brad's. I met him in a bar in London about a week ago. He said something about making the Muggle news."

"Your _friend_ lost more than seven hundred and fifty million pounds overnight betting on the Japanese index at the Singapore stock exchange and led to the crush of England's oldest investment bank," Dan responded incredulously. "And don't worry, dear," he answered his worried wife. "We had some money with Barings few years back, but we moved it to Close Brothers. Jeffrey said Barings were thinning their client base and recommended Close to me. Didn't I tell you about it?"

Emma shrugged.

"Harry," Susan said carefully. "When I met Nick, he said something about working for us. Thinking about it now, he seemed very uncomfortable about what he was doing and wanted to be sure it was what I really wanted from him."

"_You_ did this?" Emma asked in a shocked tone. Everyone was now looking at Harry for an explanation.

"Hey, I know nothing about it!" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Actually, Gringotts is your department," he told Susan, who answered him with a very accusing stare. "Why don't you pick up Bradley and go ask Ironblaze what it's all about?"

"_My_ department?" Susan cried incredulously.

"You're all friendly with Brad!"

Susan gave him one more stare, which clearly said that he hadn't heard the end of it, but nodded and rushed out of the room and out of the house to find the nearest phone-box.

"I don't know what's going on!" Harry said exasperatedly, when he noticed that all those who were still in the room were looking pointedly at him. "Look, Susan is going to ask Gringotts and will probably be able to tell us more in the evening. Right now, I really need to go and throw some magic around," he said, and Disapparated.

For three hours the training room was illuminated by bright, colourful magic. Harry found himself sweating while trying to fight off Ginny and Hermione, who teamed up against him. He started the fight quite sure of himself but soon enough found that knowledge and imagination can make up for lack of huge magical reserves – not that Ginny or Hermione were lacking in that department. Usually Harry used his sphere shield to fend off any magic coming at him, which freed him to advance on his attackers. But this morning, each time he tried to advance on any of the girls he didn't find her where he expected to. Then he discovered that this sphere shield he liked so much wasn't meant to withstand continuous attacks from several directions at once. It appeared that every kind of magic, even in large quantities, had its limitations. Harry's favourite sphere shield was designed to be a backup shield for the very capable. It was also an excellent ambush shield which could keep you safe against attacks from all sides for a short while, until the user could either turn the tables on his attackers or get the hell out of the place. It appeared that a constant and powerful attack from one side thinned the shield on the opposite side and made it vulnerable there.

Harry first discovered this fact when Ginny's stinging curse got his behind while he was toying with Hermione.

"Nice arse there, working out lately?"

When he turned around Ginny wasn't there any more, but the floor around his feet suddenly turned into quicksand, courtesy of Hermione. Harry Apparated out of the trap and moved to start anew. He tried a new method; he kept his sphere shield as a backup and used his second wand to conjure a localized shield. Now, he thought, he would be able to engage one girl while shielding from the other effectively, and using the sphere shield as backup only. It was a good plan, but each time he tried to focus on one of his opponents she would Apparate away and leave him safe but without a target.

The other side of the room saw Ron, Remus, and Bill play a much slower and steadier game with Fleur and Su. Ron did his best to keep to the backfield, so to speak. He used his newly developed two-wand casting technique and the greater effectiveness that it brought to his spells to defend and to distract his team's opponents. He also used his time to observe the fighting around him. Fleur and Su worked in a similar way, with Su providing the support and Fleur moving like a storm around the fighting zone while Bill and Remus tried desperately to contain her.

_It might work_, Ron thought to himself, noticing once more how Harry managed to miss Hermione – or was it Ginny? – after planning his attack carefully.

**Crack!**

Ron Apparated to the other side of the room to catch Su unready and quite startled by the noise, and got her with a Stunner. The noise startled Remus too, so he was caught with one of Fleur's Stunners as well.

**Crack!!**

Fleur was a much tougher nut to crack, and Ron's next curse met her shield. It was enough to distract her, though, so that Bill's Stunner managed to nick her and left her lightheaded.

**Crack!!!**

"**Aaahhhh!"** Ron fell to the floor, screaming in pain, while most of his right leg twitched on the floor at the other side of the room.

Fleur silenced him with a Stunner.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the training room, the whirlwind fight between Ginny, Hermione, and Harry become a battle of chaos and anticipation. Harry was hit from behind with a blasting spell and found himself flying forward. He Apparated to the corner of the room while still in the air, only to be banished into the wall by Ginny, who anticipated his move.

It took him a second to shake off the pain and dizziness. Lately a few of them had started to train using serious spells and curses. They didn't use any dangerous curses, like Reductors or cutting curses, and they didn't "play" with fire – literally. On the other hand, Stunners were a bad habit in a real fight, and most "normal" training spells and curses weren't strong enough to make any impression on the advance shields they were using these days.

One of the things they had discovered during the early days of the fight training was that shields didn't survive Apparation. The first few seconds after each Apparation, while someone was trying to consolidate his or her momentary advantage, he or she was also at their greatest disadvantage.

Catching someone just as he Apparated into a new location was an interesting game. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione disappear and he Apparated about four meters backward. His guess was correct and he managed to send Hermione, who appeared just in front of him, flying forward in the air. Once again Ginny was there to exploit Harry's momentary vulnerability with a stinging curse, which was becoming a favourite of hers. All this time, they were all tiring steadily.

**Crack!**

The noise Ron made startled both Harry and Hermione. They were both exhausted by this time, and ready to Apparate once more to find that elusive advantage over each other. The sudden noise made them hesitate and forget their planned destination.

**Crack!!**

Both Hermione and Harry Apparated at once, with only a vague thought of the centre of the training room as a destination.

"**Aaahhhh!"**

Screams of pain flooded the room as both Harry and Hermione ended in a pile of detached body parts. The screaming went on, though it seemed like it was mostly terror and only a little real pain.

It took both Harry and Hermione quite a bit of time to regain their senses. They weren't helped by Emma, who rushed into the room at the first sound of trouble and added her voice to the party as soon as she noticed the state that her precious daughter's body was in.

"You promised to bring her back in one piece!" she shouted at Harry as soon as she was able to form coherent speech.

Harry cringed. "It's not like we did it on _purpose!_" he said, more a statement than a question, though it came out too much like a whine for his taste.

Emma's eyes showed no sympathy for him.

"Mom! Put those down! You're tickling me!" Hermione cried between sobs.

"Sorry, dear," Emma answered, startled, and dropped the pile of arms and legs she had gathered from the floor.

"Oww!" Harry complained. "Will you leave my arm alone until it is reattached to its right place?"

Emma gave him a cold stare. She looked down on the small pile of limbs she had just dropped, carefully chose a masculine-looking leg, and kicked it, though not too hard.

Harry gave her a hurtful look back.

"Madam Pomfrey's on her way!" Su called from the door.

Hermione sobbed in relief.

"They can put you right, dear, right?"

"Sure they can," Harry responded, sounding exactly as sure as he felt at the moment. They_ were_ putting splinched peopled back together all the time, after all. "Right, Hermione?"

Emma looked down and kicked a masculine-looking leg once more.

"Probably Ron's," Harry mumbled. "I didn't feel that."

"Come, dear, leave the limbs alone. Don't make it worse. The lady who's on her way will set her right." Dan tried his best to reassure his wife but failed to be very reassuring.

"What happened here?" came Madam Pomfrey's voice as she walked briskly into the room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the scattered torsos and the pile of limbs Emma had gathered. "_What happened here?!"_

"They were dancing around the training room too enthusiastically," Ginny answered in a voice too cheery for the situation.

"Apparating during a duel?"

No one answered.

"Do you even have a license to Apparate?"

"I do," Hermione answered meekly from the floor.

"You, I'm not surprised." Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a stern look. "But I expected better judgment from you, Miss Granger." She turned her piercing glare to the girl lying at her feet.

A sob from the other end of the room indicated that Ron was coming back to his senses. Fleur waved her wand in his direction and Stunned him again, meeting Madam Pomfrey's glare without a flinch.

"Can you put them back together?" Dan asked the mediwitch softly.

"Yes, probably." Madam Pomfrey seemed to lose her confidence. She took a moment to sort through the pile of limbs. "Ron's foot – not a problem. Harry's arm and leg – not too complicated. But Hermione's splinched a shoulder and part of a lung – I should probably take her to St. Mungo's."

"Did you see the morning _Prophet_? You can't take Hermione to St. Mungo's!"

The elderly Matron looked pensive for a moment; she glanced at Ginny, than at Hermione and Harry. "I'll do my best," she finally said after a short while. "If I see that I can't make progress with her in an hour, I'm taking her to St. Mungo's, wanted criminal or not. She'd be better in a Ministry holding cell than crippled for life. Conjure beds for them here, and put each one's limbs near the corresponding bed. I'm going to the Floo to call for help. I need someone to let my helper through the wards," she said, and she walked briskly out of the room. Ginny rushed after her.

Half an hour later Madam Pomfrey was working feverishly near Hermione's bed, helping Healer MacIver of the Magical Accidents Reversal Ward at St. Mungo's.

"It's no use, Poppy," he sighed. "We can't do it properly here. We need the body stasis equipment of the hospital, and I can't do the lung by myself. Can you get her ready to Portkey?"

"What is wrong with her lung?" Emma asked softly.

"_Nothing_ is wrong with it, and I want to keep it that way," the Healer snapped at her without so much as a glance in her direction. Then he sighed and turned toward her and said in a softer voice, "There is nothing _wrong_ with your daughter right now, but it is complicated job to put her back together. When a person splinches, his body is actually whole, though not in one piece. The blood keeps flowing through his veins, muscles and nerves keep working – even internal organs, like your daughter's lung, are unaffected by the fact that they are cut in two. Look – Hermione, can you move your hand?"

Hermione nodded and carefully moved the fingers on her right hand.

"It's in putting her back together where the problem lies. I understand that you know a bit about the human body?"

Emma nodded without a word.

"Bones and muscle tissue are not a problem, that's the reason we can fix the boys up in few minutes. Complicated joints, like your daughter's shoulder, are more complicated, but we can work around it by Vanishing the bones and growing them back, though it's quite a painful process. The lung, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. It's delicate and complex and if we aren't careful while reattaching it, we risk damaging the lung tissue and causing your daughter permanent disability."

Emma nodded again.

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Granger," MacIver said in his best Healer voice. "Your daughter's situation is not that complicated and she is in no danger at all. We just need the appropriate equipment and crew to treat her right."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Healer," Dan corrected her softly.

"Well, thank you."

Five minutes later Healer MacIver, Hermione, and all her body parts were Portkeyed out of Grimmauld Place.

"Let's take care of you, young man." Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a very disapproving look. A short while later he was in one piece again.

"I don't know what you were thinking, Apparating like that while duelling, and in close proximity to other Apparating wizards. There is a reason for Apparition points, you know. I want you to stay in bed for a day, mister, and no magical travel of any kind for three days, or should I transfer you to Hogwarts' Hospital Wing?"

Harry sighed in frustration but nodded his agreement.

"This is summer vacation, Mr. Potter. Please don't let me hear about you in my professional capacity for the rest of it!"

Harry chuckled softly as she turned and walked out to the Floo.

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"Tomorrow's papers are going to be interesting," Susan said with a satisfied look on her face. They were all sitting around the living room, where Ron and Harry were able to lie on two of the sofas while speaking with their friends. Susan was sitting across Brad's lap; he looked appreciative and self-conscious, among all her wizard friends and under the constant attention she was giving him.

"Ironblaze says that everything is going according to plan. Tomorrow, Gringotts will make its move to seize every asset of the families who lost their money with Barings and make their life considerably more difficult in general. He says that there's a second phase coming in about a month's time, so we shouldn't be too surprised if a few of the families we are interested in come out without damage tomorrow. I asked him what his plans are, but he just answered that secrecy is of the essence and that the walls have ears."

"So you crushed England's oldest investment bank just to hurt a few families' finances?" Dan asked incredulously.

"You make war with gold, Mr. Granger. With those families bankrupt, we will have a much easier time both meeting them on the battlefield and, more importantly, taking care that the Ministry and the Wizengamot will conduct the needed war policy. It might mean a lot of lives saved, Mr. Granger. What would you have us do?" Susan answered.

Dan shrugged. "What about innocent people whose money – sometimes life savings – was in that bank you destroyed?"

"There are innocent people getting hurt by this war every day, Mr. Granger," Neville said.

"If all that happens to them is a loss of money we are truly lucky, Dan," Harry added softly.

Bradley was occupying himself with stroking Susan's hair. "There was no money of non-magical people in the bank at this time, Mr. Granger, only the money of those families we needed to hurt. Our next step is in the same situation, but I'm afraid it will have a wider impact on the markets. If you have money invested, you should think about moving it to some defensive investment, such as gold or the like," he remarked solemnly.

"How much time do I have?" Dan eyed him.

"You can come ahead of the markets during the next month, and will not suffer too badly for few more, but I advise you to move fast. I can help you if you like; I'll give you my card before I leave tonight."

Dan nodded in acceptance.

"By the way," Bradley added, looking at Harry. "Can you do something for Nick? What he did for us was illegal, even if we asked him to do it. He ran away from Singapore, but they are likely to get on his track soon. Don't take me wrong – we paid him enough for what he did for us, but he is my friend and I'll be glad to save him from jail time if I can."

Harry shrugged and looked at Susan quizzically.

"I'll talk with Ironblaze and we will find some way to help him, Brad. I promise," she said, and gave him a soft kiss which made everyone smile.

"Speaking of which, what are we going to do about Hermione?"

"She was put back together as soon as she got to the hospital. It took the Healers almost an hour to reattach her right shoulder and lung. They ordered her to bed for three days, so for now she is protected from the Ministry," Su informed them. "Emma is with her and Ginny is standing guard on her. I'll go there later tonight with Dan to take their places. When I left, the Ministry declared her to be under arrest, and there were two Aurors standing guard on her door."

"How was your meeting with the Minister?" Harry asked Luna and Neville with a sigh.

"Futile," Neville answered

"Amusing," Luna said at the same moment.

Everyone chuckled softly.

"Actually, 'hilarious' is a better word," Neville laughed. "Mr. Whatshisname Aid almost had a stroke when we entered. First, he wanted to get back at me for the Portkey trip to our wards from yesterday. Then he saw Luna and was lost for words, and before he could find his tongue we were past him and into the Minister's office. Then Luna started to lecture the Minister about his mistreatment of the Ministry Dementors. She told him that they were infested with some kind of parasites, which I couldn't get the name of – sorry, Luna – and we had to treat them with ice because of the Ministry's negligence."

"I just told him I saw a large concentration of Amorsoul bugs hanging around them, and we all know the only cure for those is a long, cold shower."

"Well, dear, Scrimgeour almost lost it with that remark. He also wanted to know where all the Dementors are. I had to tell him that we have no idea, since Hermione had hidden their place under Fidelius to prevent anyone ever finding them and trying to bring them back. He said it was not her decision to make but the Ministry's. Luna pointed out kindly that Ministry personnel onsite weren't in a condition to make any kind of important decisions at the time. He didn't like that remark at all, I think, though I can't be sure because he wasn't very coherent at the time."

"So? Nothing was gained except you having more fun at the Minister's expense?"

"I don't think there_was_ anything to be gained. The man is trying his best, here, have no doubt, but he is completely set in his ways and wouldn't listen to a word we were saying."

"The man is more stubborn then a purple Mulari during breeding season," Luna murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear, and they roared with laughter.

"Thankfully Mulari, of all breeds, never breed," Ron said, chuckling.

"What are we going to do about Hermione?" Harry asked as the laughter ebbed. "As long as she is under Ministry control I'm afraid for her. Not to mention that she is exposed to Death Eaters' attacks."

"We can break her out again, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. This friction with the Ministry is already costing us too much, and breaking Hermione out once more will put us in direct opposition to the Minister. We're also creating tension between the Minister and the Aurors, which isn't a good thing from any point of view but Vo...Voldemort's."

"So?"

Neville sighed. "I met a friend of Gran's in the Ministry building this morning, and he gave what I think is sound advice. I'm going to the Wizengamot tomorrow morning to declare Hermione under the protection of the Longbottom House. It won't put her above the law, whatever else it means, but it would force the Minister to bring any issue concerning her in front of the Wizengamot, in my presence, in order to avoid provoking a feud between his family and my House. The Scrimgeour family is well respected, but I don't think he'll risk a feud with one of the old families."

"Do you need my name there?"

"I don't think so, but I might change my mind."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well, ready to go home, darling?" Susan asked, getting up off Bradley's lap and stretching. "Morning comes too early these days," she teased, looking at Harry, who groaned in response.

"Sure, hon. Just let me give Mr. Granger my card. I'm available from about nine o'clock in the morning on my mobile. Feel free to call me and I'll see if I can find a way to help you through Gringotts, Mr. Granger. We aren't the best investment bank around, but we're the safest place for your money during turbulent times," he said, turning to Dan.

Dan took the card, looked at it, and shook Bradley's hand thankfully. "Dan," he said.

A moment later Susan hugged Brad, then she kissed him and they disappeared in quite a noisy way.

"Well, it's time for me to go home too," Neville said, chuckling softly. "I hate being in that empty big house, with only Gran around," he sighed.

"You know you are more than welcome to stay here, don't you?" Harry asked carefully.

Neville watched him silently, then smiled a sad, small smile. "I appreciate it, mate, I really do, but I just feel that I need to go there, even if I don't like it much."

"I can keep you company, if you like?"

They both turned to see Luna standing beside them. She was behaving the most un-Luna-like any of them had ever seen. She didn't have her trademark airy smile on her face, nor did she wear her permanent surprised face. She looked timid, and a little embarrassed.

_Embarrassed?_ Harry thought to himself. _Luna is never embarrassed!_

A soft smile lit Neville's face. "I would be so happy!" he said.

"Can I have an hour? I need to do something for Hermione first, and it might take me some time. You can go home, and I'll follow as soon as it's done."

"Is it something we need to know about?" Harry asked.

Luna shrugged. "It's not for me to tell," she said.

"Right, then, I'll wait for you here. Ron? A game of chess?"

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"Hi there!"

Luna walked into the library carrying a large book and a small basket, startling Tonks and Remus, who sat in a dark corner of the room.

"Much too dark in here," she said, and with a wave of her wand, the bright, simply decorated room was lit up with fairy light. "This is so much better, isn't it?" she said to the older couple and sighed cheerfully. "Libraries should all be like this – large, open, and well lit. I think Hogwarts got it all wrong, in that matter. Libraries are not about books but about relishing new knowledge, don't you think?"

Actually, they didn't think. Remus looked to be in the worst of tempers and Tonks had clear signs of tears on her face.

"It's not a good time, Luna, can you leave us alone? Please?"

"Nope," Luna stated in her too-cheerful tone, and she dropped the large tome on a nearby table. It didn't have the required effect, since neither the book nor the table had any dust on them. She shook her head, swirled her wand, and a cloud of dust rose from around the book, glistering in the lamplight. Luna looked at it contentedly for a second. Suddenly Winky popped into the room, gave Luna an accusing look, and Vanished all traces of dust from the library with a twist of her finger. "Elves!" Luna sighed dramatically. "Wonderful people, but no sense at all for dramatic effects."

"Luna! Can you please,_please_ leave us alone?" Remus growled.

"I can leave _her_ alone." Luna pointed her finger at Tonks. "But you I need here. Actually, you go away. Shoo!" she said to Tonks.

Tonks looked back at her, gobsmacked.

"Here, you can keep this for me," Luna said. She handed the basket to Tonks after taking a small vial out of it, then pushed her out of the room, locked the door, and put a silencing charm on it.

"Luna, I'm really,_really_ not in the mood right now," Remus repeated.

"Ah! Alone at last. You'll need this," she said, ignoring his comment entirely and tossing him the vial. "Not the best of taste, but good for your health, or so I've been told."

Remus looked in shock at the vial of Wolfsbane in his hand, lost for words. Then he downed it in one gulp, as if afraid it would disappear from his hand.

"How? Why?"

"Did you really think we would forget about you?

"But who made this? It's expensive! You know I can never repay you for this!"

"The elves from Ravenclaw Castle brew it. You can thank them tomorrow, if you like. And as for repaying us, you should probably shut up or I'll have to call Harry in here to curse some sense into you – and I'd prefer not to, since Madam Pomfrey ordered him to bed. Now, I have something here for you to read. I know I'm not doing it right. Hermione was supposed to do it. She would have been all emphatic, and would have asked you for your academic opinion on the subject, but I'm not her, and I'm in a hurry tonight – so read!" she ordered.

Remus sighed and looked at the book, which opened by itself to the designated page. "I know this," he said with a disgusted tone, after reading the beginning of the page. "It's the original and full version of the battle of Asgard. It's one of the earliest indications in reliable literature for the existence of werewolves. It tells about the _**Úlfhéðnar**_, who were a breed of werewolves, and the Valkyrie, who fought for Odin in his struggle back into Asgard after he was cast out," he said in distaste. "Why exactly are you showing me this?"

"Right!" she smiled, like a teacher proud of her pupil's achievement. "I've also read it a few times lately, and Hermione read it too, and there are a couple of things which struck us as interesting." Luna paused for the dramatic effect. "First, the _**Úlfhéðnar**_ were told to be fierce and fearless warriors, but nowhere is it said that they were evil. The second is that the battle of Asgard was fought in mid-morning, under a blazing sun."

Luna let the silence linger for a long moment before she talked again, without a trace of a smile. "Now this is what we're going to do. Tomorrow night is the birth of the full moon. Hermione and I have prepared a shielded room for you to transform in, at Ravenclaw Castle. There are elves there to help take care of you, and they have assured us that they will be in no danger from you, whether or not the potion is effective. We are going to be there an hour early for you to work on transforming voluntarily and ahead of time, before the moon forces the transformation on you. We will do it for the next three days, and we will keep doing so every full moon until the day comes when you and your wolf are no longer at each other's throats, so to speak."

Once again Luna waited for a long moment while Remus said nothing, before she went on. "I guess we have an accord – or should I call Harry and tell him you are being difficult?"

Remus nodded silently, lost for words.

Luna watched him for another moment with a piercing glare. "Splendid, splendid!" she exclaimed, and took out a large and complicated looking pocket watch to check the time. "Just twenty-seven minutes!" she told the dumbfounded Remus, as her too-cheery and totally out of place grin came back to her face. "Now I must be gone. I finally managed to invite myself to Neville's home and I expect to get in a lot of snogging before it's time for bed. I would have liked to go further, of course, but you shouldn't push boys too far. They don't like to feel pressured.

A second later Remus stood all alone in the well-lit library, looking at the place where Luna had stood just a moment ago, doing his best to grasp what had just happened.

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The _Quibbler_ building was a shabby warehouse on the outskirts of the old industrial area of Manchester. It was located inside an old steel factory, having moved there about ten years earlier when the steel industry of the great empire of Britain went down the drains, together with the country's car industry. "Empire Steel" said the large, broken sign fixed high above the large, rusty, and chain-locked gates of the factory. "The Quibbler" read a much smaller and no less broken sign, which was fixed above a small door located off to the left, set into the large gates of the old factory. This small door was closed too; nobody in the area had ever seen anyone entering the factory since its gates had closed, nor had anyone seen the small door open. Only a faint glow of light from the dirty windows indicated that, contrary to all external evidence, the factory was not abandoned.

At about two o'clock at night a dozen hazed distortions appeared on the road about five hundred yards away from the factory. The Death Eaters had suffered too many casualties lately to not be careful. One of the figures lost its Disillusionment a moment after arriving and appeared: tall, dark, and masked. The bright red light of a curse appeared suddenly, and he hurried to put his Disillusionment back. Streetlights were out, off or broken – they didn't care. The street was quiet but for a disturbing and unknown noise somewhere in the distance, but seemingly getting closer and closer. A bit later, two noisy lumps of light appeared from around a corner and raced strait toward them. Other people, under better lighting conditions, would have recognised those chunks of light as one Toyota Celica TG in full rally colours and a brand-new and shiny Subaru Impreza WRX. At the last moment the dumbfounded Death Eaters thought to run out of the light's way, just as the lights screamed past them with motors roaring, tires screaming, and small, bright flashes of sparks coming out of its exhaust pipes. Seconds later, the street was quiet and dark once more except for their beating hearts and the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

"Let's just do what we came here to do," came a quiet order from one of the hazy figures.

They spread in a thin line around the large building, checking it for wards and traps; they found nothing except for the obvious Muggle-repelling and notice-me-not spells. Two of the Death Eaters started to chant anti- Apparition and anti-Portkey wards. Those weren't the strongest of wards, and would disperse after fifteen minutes or so, but by then they would have fulfilled their goals. While the first two Death Eaters did their chanting, the rest of the group occupied themselves in magically sealing all external openings to the building to keep everyone in. This was a regular method of attack for the Death Eaters. Why risk a fight when you could lock everyone in and torch a place? In earlier days they would have cut off the Floo network to the location too, but these days, with the new Ministry, this was not an option. Never mind – this was due to change in a few days' time, and on this specific location the building and its content were more important than its inhabitants.

"Ready!" came a cry from several directions.

"Right, torch it up!"

Seconds later the factory was ablaze and a large green Dark Mark lit the sky above it.

"Right, we're through for the night," said a small wizard, who was clearly in command. "Go home and have some rest. We have a big day coming soon enough."

A few seconds later they were all gone – well, almost all. Three stayed behind. After all, this was the fun part – hearing the screams of the people trapped inside the burning building, watching the stupid Muggles running around, trying to put down a magical fire with water, sometimes even getting the opportunity to drop a couple of them into the flames, the other Muggles seeing it as a tragic accident. They walked two blocks away and stood in the middle of the road to watch the chaos in front of them from a safe distance, hidden under their Disillusionment charms.

Jeff wasn't having any fun at all. The night had started with the new kid arriving at _his_ pub, showing off his new and shiny Subaru. Jeff decided to show the rich snot just who was the fastest bloke around the neighbourhood. Right now, after a tour of the old industrial district, it was sadly obvious that the new kid, with the shiny new WRX his father had bought him, was fastest. Then there was this strange green fire coming out of the old steel factory, and the whole deserted industrial district filled with coppers and fire brigades, driving around with their flashing lights and sirens. Like he needed any more trouble. After all, _his_father's last day of work was the day the burning steel factory had closed its gates, and he needed the money to buy his second-hand Celica and install all the add-ons it required.

_Bugger!_

Jeff killed his front lights and tried to slowly sneak out of the industrial district unnoticed. Slowly, yes! – 80 MPH with _his_ car is practically driving backwards! Suddenly he felt his car hit something in the road.

"Damn. What now?" he cried in frustration. He stepped out of the car to look for any damage. There on the tarmac were three large pools of blood, with no bodies to be seen.

"Bollocks!" _This night's just getting__worse and worse_._I'm out of here_, he thought. _ And they can try to outrun me if they want_. With a scream of engine and tires, Jeff was away.

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**The Quibbler on Fire**

**The offices of **_**The Quibbler**_** were burned tonight in a fire after a Death Eater attack on the new offices of the eccentric tabloid. It took the Ministry crew a long while to free themselves of all the Muggles who were attracted by the large fire. As a result, by the time the magical fire was put out, the building was already burnt to the ground. At the time this paper was put to press, no indication regarding the welfare of the**_**Quibbler**_**'s staff was known.**

**Sources in the Auror force informed **_**The Daily Prophet**_** that the bodies of three Death Eaters were found not far from the fire. Apparently the Death Eaters were trampled by some kind of a romping beast, but the Aurors could find no indication of the identity of the beast, or its whereabouts.**

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A noisy "crack" indicated the arrival of a distressed Luna in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. She looked around and, finding no one, rushed up the stairs to Harry's room.

"Harry!" she cried, opening the door, but stopped when she saw that his bed was empty.

"Master Potter is in the Library, Miss Lovegood," said Winky, who popped into the room after Luna.

Luna nodded her thanks and rushed to the library. There in the armchair near the fire sat Harry, reading the _Prophet_.

"Harry!" Luna cried panting. "My father! The paper's offices are ruined, and I can't find him at home!"

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A.N. – this took quit a bit longer then usual, for several reasons:

First – this is not all I wrote, my betas are going right now trough a 45 pages long additional chapter ( or two – it's not yet decided) which I wrote in one run since I needed to bring the story to a certain point, before I was sure that this is fine to publish.

Seconds – It was a hard part of the story to write (the whole of it – not just this Ch. 16).

But last – there was a very good development in a business I'm a partner in. During the next six months or so, I'll be working much harder and longer, for much less money then before, but will have positive prospects for the future. All this means that a chapter every 2-3 weeks is no longer feasible. I will do my best to post every 4-6 weeks from now on.

And one last thing – I received a review saying that the story is good, but I'm lacking in the review department. Since it's true, here I am – recruiting:

**Please review!**

Tell me what you think – did you like it? Didn't you? Why?!

It will be a huge help in making my work better.

Thanks!

Niv


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

AN – Usually, I don't do notes in the beginning of a chapter, but this one is essential.

I received few remarks about this chapter (and the next one) being worse then my usual – language wise. One person even remarked that this chapter was unreadable.

For various reasons, the chapter wasn't through my usual, full, beta proofing in the first place so I sent it to my beta for a go over. Unsurprisingly – it came back red as sin.

I believe that it now makes a much better read than before, so those of you, who suffered before might like to read it again.

Then again, story wise – no changes had been made.

Niv

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Chapter 17

"Good morning!" Hermione's voice came out rough and hoarse and much less stable than intended. She coughed and tried clearing her throat before trying to speak once more.

Her mother was sitting by Hermione's bed, reading the morning papers in the sunlight coming through the open window. She raised her head to look at her daughter and smiled softly. "Good morning, dear. Need some water?"

Hermione nodded thankfully. Gulping the water, she looked around the room she was lying in. It had an opulent, old-fashioned decor, which made it look like a private manor bedroom. It contained a large, comfortable bed with two comfortable looking guest armchairs beside it, and a distinguished looking bureau with a padded chair beside it. On the wall in front of her bed a wide window opened onto a green riverside view. In fact, the room was as different from what she expected as it could be.

"When did we get here? Didn't they say that I can't travel for a few days?"

"Some tea, dear? The nice lady brought in a teapot that never empties, and a wonderful tea it is, too!"

"Mother! Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's," was the curt answer. "Or have you forgotten just how irresponsible you were yesterday?"

"This is St. Mungo's?" The room she was lying in looked completely different than any concept Hermione had ever had about the way hospitals looked like.

"This is supposed to be some kind of 'special guests' ward, or so I gathered. There was a lot of commotion here while you were asleep, after they managed to reattach you. Your friend Neville was here, and there was quite a bit of shouting in the corridor, but then they moved you here for the night."

"It's the 'Malfoy Ministerial Ward'," said an elderly witch in cyan robes, who walked into Hermione's room without knocking and promptly moved to wave her wand over Hermione's body in various complicated patterns.

Hermione didn't know whether to feel honoured or insulted.

"Quite a commotion you caused last night," the Healer remarked in a tone that clearly indicated that she didn't approve. "With Lord Longbottom declaring you under the protection of the great house of Longbottom and all; the first Muggle-born witch in one hundred and fifty years or so to gain the protection of a great house. Wonder what you did to get the honour," she mumbled under her breath, writing something in the journal posted on a small table at the head of Hermione's bed.

_Definitely insulted…._

"We don't appreciate what you are saying, Mrs…?"

"Like I should be interested in what the likes of _you_ appreciate or not," the Healer mumbled, not even bothering to look at Emma.

"I hope you didn't mean what it sounded like. Should I go speak with the manager? Or maybe I should just say something to Lord Longbottom." Su came to the room to greet Hermione, and had to give the Healer a bit of a tongue lashing. It actually worked, since the Healer just mumbled something under her breath and fled the room.

"Good morning, Herms!" Su greeted her, grinning as the Healer rushed out of the room.

Hermione groaned and glared at her mother, but parents are known to not be intimidated by their children's glares so Emma just smiled back at her happily.

"How are you enjoying the ministerial treatment?"

"I was just getting used to it when the Healer came in," Hermione mumbled. "Just how did I get to this room? I remember nothing from the moment I got to the hospital."

Su's smile faded.

"They had to anesthetize you and put you under a spell to hold you still, in order to treat you," Emma said softly. "Healer MacIver explained that if you moved even slightly during treatment they would risk causing you permanent harm."

"And as soon as you were brought here an Auror guard was placed outside the treatment room with orders to 'bring you in' as soon as the Healers finished putting you back together again. St. Mungo's head Healer himself had to call them off and tell them to leave you be. Then Senior Auror Lucas appeared here with a couple of Aurors from his squad and ordered them to guard your door and not let anyone in without his consent but your family and others who had their permission. There was quit a shouting contest between him and the first Auror team, but after a while the other team left. Then, early this morning, word came from the Wizengamot that you were declared to be under the protection of the great house of Longbottom, and the hospital decided to move you here for better comfort and protection. Auror Lucas asked me to notify his men as soon as you are awake so he can have a word with you."

Hermione nodded tiredly, and Su quickly went out.

"What does it means that I'm 'under the protection' of the Longbottoms?" Hermione asked as soon as Su came back in.

"Mainly it means that anyone who harms you will, together with his family, be in a feud with the great house of Longbottom, and that any dispute concerning you should be brought in front of the Wizengamot in the presence of the Longbottom head of house or his representative."

"Mainly," added Stanford, who had just walked in through the door, "it means that you are not above the law, but whoever wants to hold the law against you must do it in the most formal of ways."

"Senior Auror Lucas!" Hermione gasped and tried to sit up straighter in her bed.

"Hey! No 'Senior Auror' betweens brothers in arms! You must be Mrs. Granger," he stated, turning towards Emma, who got up from her armchair as soon as he walked through the door. "My colleagues and I are so thankful for you!"

Emma looked at him with huge eyes.

"Do you have any idea how much help the MLE received from your daughter in the last few weeks? How many lives she saved? We are forever in your debt."

Emma couldn't help her smile in reaction to the tall man's antics. Hermione, for her part, just buried her reddening face under her blanket.

"Well, Auror Lucas..." Emma started.

"_Senior _Auror!" Su corrected her in a hushed tone.

"Stan," he remarked at the same time.

"Stan, if you like," Emma accepted. "I do hear your Ministry speaking in two voices on the subject. Here you are telling me that you and your colleagues are friends to my daughter, yet just yesterday morning the same Ministry published a call for her arrest as a criminal, and today there is a guard on her door."

"And she _is_ going to stand trial in two days' time, together with the captured Death Eaters!" Su added dryly.

Hermione groaned something incomprehensible and buried herself deeper under the blankets.

"Trial?"

Stanford seemed to lose his cheerful disposition. "We are your daughter's friends, but there is something you need to understand – right now, the Ministry for Magic is hanging by a thread. The purge led by Minister Scrimgeour was essential, but it robbed the Ministry of its backbone. Only a month ago this was Vol – You-Know-Who's Ministry. Today it's no one's. In six months' time it will be Scrimgeour's and, since he's a good man, the people's – assuming that we can survive until then. What Scrimgeour seems to forget is that You-Know-Who isn't going to grant us the time."

"Or maybe he's mistaken in thinking he can survive that long without help," Su remarked sarcastically.

"Maybe he is," Stanford shrugged. "Human make mistakes, and if you play on a national playground, you make national scale mistakes. You guys will make some too, if you keep doing what you're doing. So will You-Know-Who; maybe he already has. The Minister is ready to pay the price for his mistakes on the scale on which he is working. Are you?"

Hermione took her face out from under the blanket. "So he plays games with the lives of all of Magical England, maybe all of England, period?"

"He's not playing games with our lives," Stanford answered, a bit angered. "He's doing what is needed, knowing what the price for his mistakes might be, knowing all too well that he _is_ going to make some and willing to do so, since not doing anything will be an even bigger mistake. That's what makes him a good man and the right man for the job."

Hermione nodded solemnly.

"I looked deeper into Wizarding history at the beginning of the summer, when Harry asked for my help," Su remarked. "Did you know that never in known Wizarding history has a state won a magical war? There was always a private person leading the fight, with or without Ministry help, and a few times even against Ministry policy. I was sure Dumbledore was the one who would fight You-Know-Who, but now it's quite clear that it's Harry who is meant to lead us."

Stanford nodded again. "I didn't say the Minister is faultless, just that he is a good man and probably the right one for the job. He is supposed to lead the Ministry, not win the fight. He's going to understand that soon enough. I just don't think we can do anything to help him reach this understanding without doing more harm than good in the process."

Hermione looked pensive for a long moment. "He doesn't know the whole picture, though – the Minister," she finally said.

"So maybe that is something that needs to be corrected."

"It's not going to be easy," Hermione mumbled.

Stanford just looked at her quizzically.

Once again it took Hermione few moments to gather her thoughts. "It's about trust," she finally said. "Harry doesn't trust anything even remotely related to the Ministry, and frankly Minister Scrimgeour has done very little to earn Harry's trust. I can't fault Harry there, actually. Harry had great expectations from Scrimgeour when he took over the Ministry from Fudge, but he made a horrible start in this regard. On the other hand, I can't see the Minister trusting Harry to keep some secrets to himself.

"There are few things we know that are really crucial to risk. Even I don't know the whole picture, and I'm quite certain that Harry himself made a point of not knowing everything, though I'm sure he has the whole picture now since he probably knows _which_ secrets are being kept from him, and by whom."

"So how do we go on from here? The Minister is planning to keep you in order to get whatever information he can from you, and I'm afraid he's going to parade you around to put pressure on Harry. This tension is dangerous, and Lord Longbottom putting you under his protection is even worse. Most of the great houses are no longer politically active, and very few of those are openly and actively opposing You-Know-Who. A feud between the Ministry and the house of Longbottom would rip the Wizengamot apart and make it ineffectual for months to come."

Hermione shrugged. "It's really out of my hands," she said. "I took care of security myself, and signed a few magical secrecy contracts. There are a few things I will die before revealing to anyone under any circumstances. Other details I can tell only in good faith, and I'm really bad at lying to myself. The Minister will just have to come to an understanding with Harry."

"If I know Harry, putting pressure on him won't get him there," Su said, "and doing harm to Hermione certainly won't."

Stanford nodded in understanding. "I will try and speak with the Minister," he said. "Right now you _are_ scheduled to stand trial in two days' time, and it will indeed be with the captured Death Eaters," he said, embarrassed. "You will be staying here for the duration for 'observation', and my people will keep guard on you all that time. I know it's a farce," he said in a softer tone, "but you should know that many people in the MLE will speak up for you, even against their superiors, and even though it's a shameful situation you will not be harmed."

"Thank you," Emma said softly.

Stanford smiled encouragingly and left the room.

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"Here, read this."

Luna took the newspaper Harry had handed her, noting in surprise that it was that morning's _Quibbler_. She hurriedly turned it upside down and began to read.

**The **_**Quibbler**_** on Fire**

**In a cowardly attack, people loyal to the Dark Lord Voldemort burned the offices of **_**The Quibbler**_**, located in the city of Manchester, in an effort to harm the dedicated wizards and witches working for the veteran and trustworthy newspaper and stop the truth from coming out. **

**We at **_**The Quibbler**_** pride ourselves on our dedication to the truth and will do our best to ensure that this publication will remain available to anybody willing to ignore public opinion and read our paper. Knowing that in these perilous times, as has already happened in the distant past, there are those who are willing to harm others to prevent them from thinking, **_**The Quibbler**_** has taken the precaution of preparing alternate facilities to ensure its on-going publication. **

_**The Quibbler**_** is ashamed that once again a time has come in which the truth must be published by underground means, but we truly believe that as long as the truth is out there, better times will inevitably ensue. **

_**The Quibbler**_** – since 384 A.D.**

**Wilhelm Flamel – Editor-in-Chief and Founder**

**Oddment Lovegood, Trustee Editor**

Harry could see the glistening in Luna's eyes.

"Stupid old man," she said in a trembling voice. "I told him never to disclose it. People should read _The Quibbler_ of their own free will, not because of its founder's name. By Merlin, when I find that old man I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind."

Harry watched as she silently flickered out of sight, before turning to the older man who sat in front of him in a large, comfortable looking winged armchair, positioned with its back to the place where Luna had stood. "Well, Odd, I believe you should avoid your daughter for a little longer, don't you think?"

Oddment Lovegood raised his head from the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ he was reading and shook it slightly. "She will just get even more frustrated and motherly than usual and order me around. You haven't seen her like that, and believe me, it's not a nice sight. I'd better get home and talk with her before she gets even more frantic."

"You're probably right." Harry smiled impishly. "I wouldn't have wanted her after my hide, either. Is there anything – dare I say it – interesting in the_ Prophet_?"

Oddment handed him the folded paper. "Actually there is. I'm ashamed to say that with all the excitement of the last few days we got a little behind with the news in _The Quibbler_. I just hope we can pick up the slack in the next couple of days."

"Sure you will!"

"Sure we will," Odd agreed. "I just got a new picture documentary regarding a new breed of giant green turtles that are living in an American Muggle city called New-York, and are rumoured to excel in Muggle martial arts."

"Err...wonderful!" Harry finally said, having decided there was no other appropriate response.

"Right! We won't have the time to prepare it for print tomorrow, with all the hassle of settling into the new offices, but the next day's edition will see the new scoop. But first I need to go home to get a piece of my wonderful daughter's mind, have a shot of Firewhisky, and squeeze in a few hours of sleep. Can I use your Floo?"

Harry nodded dumbly and watched Oddment Lovegood disappear in a blaze of green fire. _Well, the apple surely didn't fall far from the tree,_ he thought, and he opened up the _Prophet_.

**Death Eaters' Trials to be Held on Thursday**

**Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, declared yesterday morning that trials for all Death Eaters held by the Ministry will be conducted Thursday morning in Courtroom Ten before a full Wizengamot assembly. ****The Ministry now holds some thirty Death Eaters captured since the beginning of the summer,**** said the Minister****. These wizards and witches were interrogated by Ministry Aurors and gave up every piece of information in their possession. Now it is time for them to pay the price for their crimes against Wizarding England.**

**A short time ago, a turbulent session of the Wizengamot reapproved the death sentence for wizards and witches convicted of murder. The Wizengamot also approve the use of Veritaserum during all Death Eater investigations, as long as the Death Eaters were captured in battle, The use of Veritaserum was approved by two senior Aurors who are involved with the investigation of the case, and the questioning dealt only with issues relevant to the investigation. **

**Under those rules, all Death Eaters standing trial this Thursday have already been interrogated using Veritaserum, and according to our sources in the Auror force the Ministry cases against all of them are solid. Our source, who wants to remain anonymous for obvious reasons, says that he confidently expects at least twenty of the Death Eaters on trial will be sent through the Veil directly after the end of the trials.**

**The **_**Prophet**_** will be present in Courtroom Ten on Thursday morning to present our readers with a full and impartial portrayal of the trials. **

_Interesting,__ he thought. __We should plan to make an appearance. Maybe say something nice about the Ministry's effort._

**Wanted Criminal Apprehended**

**Hermione Granger, seventh year Gryffindor student and a criminal wanted by the Ministry of Magic, was apprehended last night at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries as she was brought in for treatment of injuries from a complicated splinching accident. Rumours have reached the **_**Prophet**_** that Miss Granger's Apparition accident came to pass as she was trying to evade an Auror team who were cornering her. Sources high in the Ministry evaded comment on the subject but indicated that Miss Granger had previously escaped Ministry holding cells and that her room at St Mungo's is being guarded by an Auror force as a precaution.**

**In the meantime, Miss Granger caused quite a stir when she became the first Muggleborn witch to be put under the protection of one of the great Wizarding houses, as Lord Longbottom has declared her to be under his protection in front of the Wizengamot administrative committee. **

**The Ministry will present its accusation against Miss Granger before the Wizengamot in two days' time, during the Death Eaters' trials****, stated the Minister's personal aide in response to the **_**Prophet**_**'s inquiry. ****The Ministry's case against Miss Granger is straightforward and clear. We have no doubt regarding the outcome of her trial, whether she is under the protection of the house of Longbottom or not.**

**Hermione Granger has done nothing but fight against You-Know-Who and against the Death Eaters since the beginning of the summer. She has stopped many Death Eaters, saved Auror lives, and eliminated the Dementor threat from our country,**** states Su Li, Lord Longbottom's representative. ****Miss Granger's trial is a farce and we are certain she will be declared innocent by the Wizengamot.**

**We at the **_**Prophet**_** would like to remark that Wizarding England is in need of all resources in her arsenal if she is to survive and win the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Disagreements and factionalism are harming our chances in this war which has been forced upon us.**

_Not rehearsing the Ministry line – even more interesting!_Harry thought to himself_.__ Not sure about saying nice things about the Minister, though._

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"You're going where?"

"Singapore, dear. The shopping capital of the world!"

"Don't you have enough shopping to do here in London?"

"It's not only that, silly. There's the biennial free-diving festival of Alice Springs!"

"Right, so you're not only a spoiled rich girl but also stupid enough to jump out of small airplanes."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – skydiving is a totally safe sport. You just need to pay attention and be careful. Hell, it's _much_ more dangerous to bloody cross Oxford Street and _you_ do it all the time, just to get to the next shoe store."

"_Right_, Roni!"

There was a long silence, during which the three girls just sipped their coffee and looked at the people running past them in the park. It was early afternoon, and the soft English sun was lighting the grass through the foliage, making the whole scene a real Kodak moment.

"Anyway, my trust manager didn't agree with my taking a year off to go backpacking after high school, so I have to cram in as much fun as I can during the summer before Oxford starts."

Liz nodded in understanding.

Two young guys passed by on their push-bikes, dressed in their tight, colourful biking clothes. One of them waved to the girls shyly, only to have them take another sip of their coffee and look away coldly.

"Decent chap though," Anne remarked, to the sound of Roni and Lizbeth's giggles.

At the table beside them, in the middle of all that London beauty, sat two young kids in loose clothes and baseball caps – clearly tourists –trying to fight the boredom by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors.

"Paper beats rock. BAM! Your rock is blown up!"

"_Bam_ doesn't blow up; _bam_ makes it spicy. Now I got a _spicy rock_! You can't defeat that!"

Roni chuckled softly.

"So?" Anne asked finally. "When are you going?"

"Friday morning. I have a seat on Singapore Airlines, business class."

"Splashing out!"

"I'm not flying that far by coach for all the tea in China!"

For a while they just sat there, ordering another round of cappuccinos, looking at the sunlight playing with the shadow of the trees.

"I'm _so_ glad the fog went away finally," Anne said softly.

Elisabeth nodded in agreement. "It was here for ages. I don't think England's had so much fog since '52."

"I just let it get to me too much," Roni said in a barely audible voice. "Sometimes, when I was sitting alone in that great empty house and looking out of the windows, I felt almost like my happiness was seeping out through the cracks."

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air," Annabeth recited softly.

At the table next to them the two kids kept trying to invent new ways of entertaining themselves – ways which would be applicable, and hopefully acceptable in public by civilized cultures.

A few tables over sat Uma and Tonks.

"How was last night?"

Tonks noted the worried tone and raised an eyebrow.

"It was a full moon; did you think I'd forgotten?"

"Sorry, I'm still not sure what I was thinking when I told you about magic. I could have had my men ordered to arrest _me_."

Uma chuckled. "So how did your cuddly wolf-man survive the night? Remus, wasn't it?" she asked in a concerned tone.

"Remus," Tonks nodded and sighed. "As good as can be expected, I guess. It's never any fun, but apparently he has – actually _we_ have even better friends than I imagined. There's a potion to help him with the transformation..."

"_Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble_," Uma said in a fake low, coarse voice."

Tonks looked lost.

"Don't you guys read Shakespeare?"

"Huh?"

"Shakespeare! My one and only source of potions literature –

_Fillet of a fenny snake,_

_In the cauldron boil and bake;_

_Eye of newt and toe of frog,_

_Wool of bat and tongue of dog,_

_Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,_

_Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,_

_For a charm of powerful trouble,_

_Like a hell-broth boil and bubble._

Didn't you ever read Macbeth?"

Tonks winced visibly. "I don't know that Macbeth of yours, but you shouldn't trust him with your potions work. I wasn't much into potions myself, but that mammal and amphibian parts don't mix well is basic knowledge for any first year Potions student."

For quite a while there was silent.

"So?" Uma finally asked.

"So?"

"You were saying something about a potion before you started criticizing my well earned potions knowledge."

Tonks chuckled. "There's a potion that helps a werewolf keep his mind separate from the wolf. It also makes the transformation a little more physically bearable. It is also very expensive and very, very hard to brew. Remus and I can't brew it and certainly can't afford the ingredients. Well, apparently Harry, the kid I told you about, made sure to buy them and saw that the potion got brewed. Remus tried to say something about repaying him, but Harry gave him such a look that he decided to shut up. It actually would have been quite amusing if not for the fact that Remus looked like he'd gone through hell – and in a way, he did."

"He's all right, then?"

"He will be," Tonks sighed. "He just needs a couple of slow days and some tender care and he'll be right as rain in no time."

"Tea and sympathy," Uma smiled.

Tonks smiled back a small, sad smile. "Actually, you gave us a bright idea!"

"Me?"

"Yep. You asked me why he didn't change into a wolf before the transformation was forced on him by the moon."

Uma nodded.

"I offered the idea to Remus, who almost bit my head off. So I went to speak with a girl we're working with. She's practically walking brilliance. She and another girl looked into it and found an old text suggesting that it's possible. Remus still didn't like it but they forced him to try, in a trade-off for the potion. This was his first time trying, but I think something happened."

"This is a good thing, right?"

"It's a good sign," Tonks answered, reluctant to be optimistic just yet. "We have good people working to help him now, and they have a way to make that stubborn man listen."

"Well, I wish you luck, then."

For a while they just sat there in silence. Uma looked quite interested in the three girls sitting a few tables from them, across the obnoxious American kids.

"So what is this crazy tea party all about?"

"What?" Uma was lost for a minute as her attention was drawn back to her friend. "Oh, I just wanted to say goodbye before I go away for the summer."

"What? Don't like London with all the tourists running around?"

"Not my cup of tea, no," Uma giggled.

"But we just got rid of the Dementors and their bloody depressing fog."

"Language, my young dear!" Uma said, doing a wonderful imitation of the empire lady.

"Where are you going, then?"

Uma stole another look at the girls' table. "Singapore, apparently," she said.

"How is it this time of year?"

"As far as I can remember it's hot, humid, and rainy – oh, and the best shopping in the world!"

"Joy," was the sarcastic response. "How are you getting there?"

"Airplane ,I believe. I need to call my agent and ask for a ticket."

"Want me to arrange a Portkey for you?"

"A what?"

"Portkey. It will get you there in about ten minutes but will probably make you sick for a while."

"Thank you, dear, but I believe I'll stick to plain old airplanes."

"So when can I expect to see you back?"

"I'm giving a few lessons in Oxford so I have to be back before Michaelmas term, though I'll probably be back earlier."

"Take care."

"No, _you_ take care," Uma answered in a soft, low voice. "With that war of yours – I want my friend to be here when I come back."

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"All right, girls, listen carefully!"

Senior Auror You-Don't-Deserve-To-Know-My-Name Tonks was in her element. It was six o'clock in the morning and her squad of eleven young trainee Aurors were standing all around her in the Ministry atrium, doing their best to hide their yawns. One thing they'd learned early in their training was that a yawn, even early in the morning, came with a high price tag in sweat if their commanding officer managed to catch even a glimpse of it. The only thing worse was to look even remotely amused at her uncanny capability for stumbling over anything, or even over nothing at all. Actually they could do worse, but since none of them knew what her given name was, they didn't have the opportunity to find out.

"Right now you're the least of the least of the best. You know nothing but to wear your uniform nicely, so nicely you will wear it. Other, well trained and much more experienced Aurors will be responsible for the prisoners' handling and the Ministry's security. You, on the other hand, will be standing in plain view of everybody, looking dignified and sure of yourselves, and most importantly – doing nothing to embarrass the Ministry, and especially _me_."

The setup was quite simple. They were divided into three units of three men. One unit stood at the security desk, visible to all visitors to the Ministry building. Another unit did basically the same thing at the entrance to the Ministry's main courtroom. The last unit was their relief – trials were planned to last all day long, and no one expected them to stand for the whole time. The last three men were Tonks' personal aids and messengers, and basically did the same rotation among them.

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"We will handle the prisoners who took lives first," said Abigail to the senior Aurors sitting in her office at the same time.

Gawain Robards, MLE, stood in the corner in silence, leaving the floor to his head Auror.

"We are asking the Wizengamot for the death sentence for those, and since the Wizengamot has been purged of Death Eaters and we have rock-solid evidence against the lot of them, we realistically expect them to walk or be thrown through the Veil directly from the courtroom. It's not a pretty job, sending people to their deaths, so make sure you and your men are ready for it."

"I want you to be careful and alert out there today," Gawain added in a soft voice. "We don't expect any security problems, but there are some very dangerous people here today and we don't want things to get out of hand."

Nods and sounds of agreement went all around.

"Get your squads ready, and explain the plan to your men." Abigail picked up the briefing. "Stan and Kingsley." She looked at the two. "You're Ministry security. I want fifteen men up at all times, the others on alert." Both nodded in agreement. "Kleio, Aidan – you are responsible for prisoner transfer and security. Pay attention to everything. These are some dangerous and desperate people you are responsible for."

"Right, ma'am!" Stan confirmed.

"George – you're my tactical reserve." She received a nod of understanding.

"Keep your men on their toes and stay _alert!_ It's going to be a very long day, but by the end of it we should be able to record a significant success in our fight against You-Know-Who in the books."

She took a long breath and looked around at the witches and wizards sitting with her. "Get your men ready!" she finally ordered.

She waited for them to file out of the office before addressing her commander. "Sir, what are we going to do about the Granger girl farce?"

Gawain walked round her desk, sighed, and sat down in front of her. "She did break the law," he finally said.

"Sir, that's a lot of bull, and you know it. She's one of the witches who's done the most to fight You-Know-Who, and that includes our entire department. Together with Mr. Potter, she killed and captured more Death Eaters than anyone else, she saved Auror and civilian lives, and she found the solution to the Dementor problem. What do you want her do – stand on the accused bench and start calling in Aurors' and Senior Aurors' for their life debts in public?"

Gawain looked lost for a moment. "I just don't know what got into Scrimgeour about Potter and the girl."

"Hell, they're doing _our_ job, and they're bloody doing it well," Abigail remarked, with a slight bitter edge to her voice.

For a moment Gawain looked pensive. "Maybe that's what put our Minister in a twist. He has this notion about a straight Ministry, doing the right thing for its citizens. It's just that we had to crush too much of the old establishment for us to be ready to fight this war by ourselves."

"It's not only that, Gawain. We're having a magical war, and you know as well as I do that ministries are for peace time. Magical wars are power contests, and there's nobody in the Ministry powerful enough to fight off You-Know-Who. I always hoped the person who could would be the Headmaster, but now I don't know anyone capable of it but Potter, and there's no real indication _he_ is capable, only the fact that he's willing and doesn't seem to be afraid."

"It was the same thing during the forties, when Dumbledore fought Grindelwald. We could never be sure he could do it until he did, and he always seemed so reluctant to join the war effort."

"I know. I was just a kid back then, but during the Great War the Headmaster was in his nineties and in his prime. Everyone knew he was a great wizard, they just weren't sure he was powerful enough. Potter is another thing entirely. The kid is only seventeen, for crying out loud. He's not ready to take his NEWTs, and you want us to trust him with the war against one of the most evil and powerful wizards ever?"

"Until we know of another witch or wizard who's capable, we don't have a choice."

"So what now, sir? Do I bring her out in front of the full Wizengamot, together with all the Death Eaters?"

Gawain sighed again. "We're here to do as ordered, but I'm going to the Minister right now to report. I'll do my best to move her to a less public part of this day."

"Yes, sir!"

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"Expecting a fight?"

Bradley lay in bed, snuggled between the soft covers, and looked at his girlfriend wearing her battle armour suit and hiding her spare wand in her left hip holster. He knew that this way it would be accessible through her robe's pocket, if needed.

"Didn't want to wake you up," she apologized, leaning over to kiss him good morning. "Mmmm," she moaned as she was pulled back into the warm bed in his arms. "Not making it easy on me this morning," she smirked, as they finally broke the kiss.

"I'm worried for you," he answered simply, kissing her again.

"We're not expecting any fights, but we should be ready. I hardly ever go around without my armour these days, you know that," she said tenderly, not answering his remark.

"So I shouldn't be worried?"

"You probably should," she admitted. "We're at war and we're – _I'm_ in danger every time I leave home. One day they might even find a way to break through our wards and charms and attack us at home. Still, we're doing our best."

A week before, Bradley had come to visit Grimmauld Place while Susan was training. He had worked around magic for a long while now, but seeing his girlfriend wielding destructive magic made him a little bit apprehensive and he realized just why men through the ages had been wary, even afraid of witches. Yet as impressive as Susan and her friends were, it was nothing compared to the magic that people like Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Fleur, and Ginny controlled. Actually Fleur didn't need magic to wipe the floor with him, but Susan just told him that Fleur wasn't entirely human and it was in her nature, and laughed it off.

"You're not a soldier," he finally said.

"No, I'm not," she answered, kissing him softly. "But the people we're fighting against aren't soldiers either, and I can hold my own against most of them." She hugged him silently for a while, drawing warmth from him. "Probably," she finally added.

"Probably?"

"Yep. Haven't tried this theory yet, and I'm in no rush to do."

"Be careful." His tone was almost pleading.

She kissed him one last time and stood up. "I will," she promised, throwing her formal cloak around her shoulder, and she Disapparated.

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"Mr. Potter! _Mr. Potter!"_

As soon as they appeared in the Ministry atrium they were swarmed by the press. Now, the whole of Wizarding England is only about thirty thousand people, so there aren't really so many institutions of the press that they can effectively _swarm_ someone, but being magical made the few seem more swarming than their non-magical counterparts. Harry looked at Neville for help only to see his back as he moved away, led by two old men wearing Wizengamot robes.

"Lindsey Hamilton, the _Salem Chronicle_," said a young blond witch, who wore an old-fashioned business suit and was definitely not a natural blond. Something about her hair colour was a bit too vivid and, well –_natural_ for that to be a possibility. She was talking with the haughty, self-assured tone that is so often used by young, inexperienced professionals trying to make their way through the ranks of their profession.

Harry sighed and turned to look at her, letting her catch up with him. Seconds later all of the press representatives were gathered around him, loudly asking questions.

"You can either listen to me talk with Miss Hamilton here or do without me at all," he said, and he watched with satisfaction as quiet descended on the reporters around him and Miss Hamilton stood a bit taller.

"You were asking?" He politely returned to her. If he had to deal with the press, he could try to do it on his terms and put the loud English press at bay.

"Mr. Potter, what are your views regarding the Minister reintroducing the death penalty?"

_Right to the point – I like this girl!_ he thought to himself. "We're at war," he answered, risking sounding cliché. "It's not a nice move, but merely putting Death Eaters into a prison we can't keep secure is no way to deter people from joining Voldemort and his death circus." He stopped at the loud reaction to his mentioning The Name out loud.

"Honestly, how are you planning to fight someone when you're so afraid of him you can't even say his name?! Anyway, as long as the Ministry limits the death sentence to Death Eaters who committed acts of murder and makes sure to trial them and makes sure they _are_ guilty – I can stomach it."

"Do you think the Ministry is doing enough to fight You-Know-Who?"

"The Minister and the Auror force are doing their best. Sadly, the former Minister did a lot of damage, and even Minister Scrimgeour took almost a full year to find a way to put it right. It will be some time yet before the Ministry is ready for war. There are other people who stand against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, which will hopefully give the Ministry time enough to get ready." In his mind Harry thanked Emma and Dan for preparing him for this interview.

"So you and Minister Scrimgeour see eye to eye?"

Harry smiled. "Sadly, not always; there is the Ministry farce of putting my best friend on trial this morning for nothing other than fighting Death Eaters as an example. I do believe it will be resolved here today, however."

"People talk about you as 'The Chosen One'; shouldn't you lead the Ministry during this war?"

"I don't know about that 'Chosen One' nonsense," Harry said, giving the girl who had spoken a sad smile. "I'd rather see people start taking care of themselves than choosing others to save them. I'm a seventeen-year-old kid who needs to go back to school in September." Once again he was thankful for Emma's preparation.

"What are your plans for the day, Mr. Potter?"

"I plan to sit with the public and watch justice being done –for Hermione, my friend, and to the Death Eaters."

"Speaking of Miss Granger, I believe she is the first Muggle-born to be placed under the protection of one of the great English Wizarding houses in a very long time. Was it really necessary?"

"The Ministry made a point of giving her their _special_ attention, so we had to make sure they gave her the said attention the right way."

"Why is she under the protection of the house of Longbottom and not the house of Potter?"

"At the moment of need, it was Neville –"

"Lord Longbottom?"

"Yes, Neville Longbottom," Harry confirmed, a bit annoyed at being cut off. "As I was saying, it was Neville who was at the Ministry and able to be of help at the time. Out of my small group of friends, Neville is the one dealing with the Ministry. Others deal with the press and finances; Hermione Granger is responsible for Magical research. To be frank, I wouldn't have known that the Potters were one of the great houses, or that there were great houses of magic at all, or that one can put another under his house's protection and the meaning of such an act."

"The last Mud – Muggle-born witch who was under the protection of a great Magical house was the mother of the illegitimate son of the head of that family," remarked a young wizard who looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

Harry let his Magic flair for a second and used the short moment of confusion to rush his friends through the press and into an open elevator, leaving the wizard to explain himself to his friends of the press for ruining such a rare interview with Harry Potter.

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The Imperius Curse and the Polyjuice potion were indeed powerful tools for terrorists. Ever since he had broken out of Azkaban, Augustus Rookwood had been responsible for focusing the Death Eaters' efforts in choosing victims for the Imperius and collecting hairs. They, however, took care not to expose themselves, so no victim was actually cursed until the last night and Polyjuice ingredients were taken only from wizards and witches he was sure to be able to stop from showing up at the Ministry this morning. The Dark Lord wasn't too happy with him, as the residual pain in his joints kept reminding him, but this morning he was ready with two Ministry personnel under the Imperius and four Death Eaters walking about with a stock of small Polyjuice vials in their robes' pockets, and faces which were not their own. The reason for his Lord's ire was the fact that none of these were important enough to have access to the prisoners themselves. Actually, one of the Imperiused showed promise since he was an Auror in training, but they had discovered just this morning that all the younger Aurors had been sent to stand at visible points at the Ministry and look, well – Aurorish.

Right now young Auror Wallace Hawkins, under the Imperius, stood in the Ministry atrium and looked very Aurorish indeed, thank you very much.

Actually, the Dark Lord's ire had almost nothing to do with the number of Ministry workers under the Imperius, or their quality. No! The dear Dark Lord was quite angry with all Death Eaters who had been rescued from Azkaban lately, especially those who were at the Department of Mysteries – and when His Darkness was angry, it hurt.

Rookwood finished his Imperio and Polyjuice obligations and was on his way home to put on his Death Eater costume for today's festivities. He was responsible for a group of young recruits who would be heading down to the Floo network control room to cut the connection to the Ministry. That was supposed to be a simple task and he was glad for it. Almost fourteen years of Azkaban hospitality followed by a year of "vacation" and another year inside had been no help to his magic and physics. Actually it was a wonder that they had managed to fight the kids to a standstill. If the kids had kept running around for another ten minutes, they would have whipped the floor with them back then.

He looked in the mirror with satisfaction.

"Intimidating as always, Master Rookwood," said the mirror in a respectful voice.

And intimidating he actually was. Intimidation did half of the work. It had a big part in today's plan, too. It was actually a good plan for a change. His Darkness was capable of amazing planning when he put his mind to it. Rookwood's Imperius and Polyjuice efforts were intended to create chaos and confusion. It never failed to work – when someone you considered to be your friend turned against you, chaos ensued. The basic plan was for some of those under the influence of the Imperius and Polyjuice to free the prisoners and give them wands so they could fight their way out of the holding cells and force whoever was going to fight them to fight on two fronts. Rookwood discovered that should they try and get hold of people with access to the holding cells they would risk discovery, so new plans were in place.

Rookwood's Imperiused and Polyjuiced personnel were ordered to create disturbances both in the central courtroom and in one of the departments – it wasn't really important which. Then other Death Eaters would Portkey in and do their thing. Some, under Bella's command, would head to the courtroom to arouse fear and free the Death Eaters on trial. Others, headed by Snape, would go to the holding cells to free their men still there. Rookwood's team was to block the Floo connection to the Ministry complex, while groups led by McNair and Malfoy were to spread out wherever it seemed appropriate and force anyone with any fighting spirit left to spread and fight on several fronts. Then the Dark Lord himself would show up at the Ministry.

The best part of their plan was their objectives. Rookwood was afraid at first that they would be ordered to take control of the Ministry. While it was a possible goal to achieve, he knew the death toll would be so high that a fierce group of housewitches would be able to Scourgify them out of the place later on. Sure, the Dark One was practically immortal – Rookwood was still not sure if he wouldn't die or couldn't be killed – but whatever it was, regular Death Eaters did not have the same immunity, and Rookwood was in no rush to die.

No, their objectives were much simpler and quite achievable: a) free the captured Death Eaters; b) kill as many people as possible; c) install fear; d) (and this one was important) get out alive. Rookwood was ready to vouch for this plan. He took one last glance at the mirror, put on his mask, and used a nice little charm to change his voice so he wouldn't be recognized by it – Rookwood detested careless comrades like Lucius and Bella, who forewent such simple security measures. After another glance at the mirror he Disapparated, to reappear by his master.

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The first sign of trouble came in the atrium. Auror trainee Wallace Hawkins turned his shaking wand on his friend Isabella Dexter and sent a _Reducto_ toard her head. Isy's body crumbled to the flour, her blood spraying all over trainee Auror Annemarie Law. Anne turned in shock to see her dead friend's body and her other friend turning his shaking wand slowly toward her.

"Will, what are you doing?!" she screeched, looking at her colleague.

By now Will had his wand already pointed at her. "_Reducto!_" he said, with a tear dripping down his cheek. Anne rolled over Isy's body, narrowly avoiding the curse.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" she cried.

Will's next curse met her shield, but she was thrown hard into the wall behind her. Once again she rolled to the right, pointed her wand at Will, and shouted, "_Reducto!_"

She watched in horror as her bright red curse hit Will, who didn't even try to defend himself, in the chest, and he fell bloody and lifeless to the flour. Anne stared at her dead friends' bodies for a long moment before she broke down and emptied her stomach on the polished atrium's floor. She was vaguely aware of dark figures appearing around her. She wanted to turn around, but the last thing she heard was someone whispering "_Reducto!_" behind her back.

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Down in the bowls of the Ministry complex the show went on. The first to stand trial were ten Death Eaters, mostly wizards and witches caught during the Ministry cleanup. It was quite a brilliant diversion plan executed by the head of the MLE. It was hard, but he managed to convince Minister Scrimgeour that starting the trials with controversy was the wrong way to go. It was true, actually. They wanted to make an enormous issue of the Death Eaters' trials for propaganda reasons, and starting the day with a big dispute with Lord Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, number two on _Teen Witch_ _Weekly_'s hottest hottie list, or whatever nonsense it was called, over his best friend, was definitely the worst way to go. It took some time and effort, but finally the MLE head managed to persuade the Minister to start the day with a better showcase.

The Wizengamot was in full attendance and in full regalia. This took some effort, too. First, the Wizengamot had lost about ten of its quorum. Actually two former Wizengamot representatives were now standing trial in front of it. Second, public attendance was at its peak. On the one hand it was the desired effect the Minister wished to achieve, but it also created security problems, not to mention that Courtroom Ten had to be magically enlarged to fit everyone in.

Minister Scrimgeour limped onto the central podium of the Ministry's main courtroom. In front of him, in comfortable armchairs, sat the Wizengamot representatives on several elevated steps, their purple and gold uniforms emphasizing their presence in the room. The two adjacent sides of the courtroom housed the visitors. The visitor section was divided in three: prisoners' families, general public, and special guests of the Ministry. There was a noticeable Auror presence between these different sections, especially around the section where the prisoners' families sat.

The fourth side of the courtroom was occupied with administration. There was the Prosecutor's bench, the Court Clerk desk, Auror exhibits and, of course, the prisoners' holding cage.

_So medieval__, _Gawain Robards thought_. __We think so highly of ourselves, yet we've hardly changed since the tenth century. Magic has hardly changed since the fourteenth_. He watched as a team of Aurors paraded the first group of prisoners in to stand trial. He watched them being locked in the cage and signaled to the Minister to start.

"Members of the Wizengamot, witches and wizards of England," Scrimgeour said, looking at the crowd around him. "It has been two years now since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back to life. During that long time we, the English Ministry for Magic, have done wrong. The former administration had early information regarding You-Know-Who's return, but like so many before them they chose to slander the messengers rather than face their unwelcome news."

In the special-guest section of the audience, Harry Potter moved uncomfortably in his chair.

"This administration isn't clear of blame either. When we picked up the reins _I_ was much more interested in public relations – making you people feel we were doing our best to protect you – than actually _doing_ our best."

Harry relaxed in his chair. This speech wasn't going the way he'd been afraid it would.

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Rookwood made his way toward the Floo control centre without any problem. The Ministry corridors were empty of any employee or visitor who wasn't essential. At the moment, all but the youngest employees of the Floo regulation and control centre were down at Courtroom Ten. The youngest employee's lifeless body was dropped in the corner of the room. When they came in, the brave sod had actually tried to _resist_. A stupid Gryffindor, probably. Personally, Rookwood would have been perfectly all right with using a Stunner on him, but the new kids took the Dark Lord's speech about creating chaos and death seriously. Rookwood suspected that one of the new ones had soiled himself during the preparation gathering, but he was quick on the cleaning charm, so Rookwood wasn't sure.

It took five minutes for him to discover the way to put the system offline. _He_ wasn't a Floo expert, after all. It took him much less time to sabotage the system so it would remain offline for a long while, unless the Ministry had a very expert Floo team and a lot of spare parts on hand. He was quite sure that the expert team wouldn't be too large an obstacle, and just as certain that the Ministry bureaucracy never bothered with the spares.

Now they had nothing more to do. The new kids were anxious to go out looking for more wizards and witches to kill, but Rookwood reminded them that they had to stick to the plan – barricade for about fifteen minutes and then head back to the atrium, where The Dark Lord would be. It was of no use, he told them patiently, to be heroic, cunning, imaginative, or the like, if no one noticed.

The room was secured, the mission was accomplished, and Rookwood was content. They would go home alive; they would all have chances to gain more practice with their magic; they could actually win this.

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AN:

Yep – it took a while, and this is a bit of a cliffy. I can only say I'm sorry, and promise that the next part is already written, so you are not in for a long wait.

Thanks for all those who took care to review – it really helps.

Please review some more and tell me what you think!

Niv


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

AN – this is the same remark as in chapter 17: Due to some creative criticism (a little harsh though ;-) ) that I've received, I went through the beta process for chapters 17 and 18 once more, only to find that the criticism was in place.

It now makes a much easier read now, and you might like to go over it again.

No changes were made to the storyline.

Niv

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Chapter 18

"Well, all this has now changed. We, The English Ministry for Magic, headed by _me_, Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, know that the English Wizarding world is in grave danger from You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. We are doing, and will do, all that is possible to fight them and protect all of you to the best of our ability."

"Many of you still remember the horrors of the previous war," he said, and he moved to the side of the podium, emphasising his limp. "I will not lie to you – this new war is not going to be any easier on us. We will need the support of Wizarding England if we are to win this war, and we know – _I_ know – that we need to gain credibility. For that reason the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I decided to start our effort with ourselves. First we verified, using Veritaserum, that I, head of MLE Robards, Head Auror Clifford, and all of our senior Aurors are neither marked Death Eaters nor supporters of You-Know-Who. Then we went on down the ranks so that on this day we know that no Ministry department head, no member of the esteemed Wizengamot, no Auror or any other Ministry employee is either a Death Eater or an active supporter of the Dark Lord."

"Today you will all see the result of both the clean-up operation and the Auror force's effort during the last couple of months. You will see former members of the Wizengamot and former Ministry department heads here on trial, paying for their crimes against us. We are doing this to ensure your safety from those who wish to undermine the very basis of our society; we do it to prepare ourselves for war, since the Ministry can not win a war while being betrayed by its own members; but mainly we do it in such a public fashion to show you all that we have nothing to hide, and that we are working to earn your trust!"

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Severus Snape was afraid – no, mortified would probably be a more suitable word. For the last couple of months he'd had the worst of luck, and for someone who'd had no luck at all since the day he was born, that was saying something. Three times he'd been responsible for a mission, and three times he'd been severely wounded even before he had a chance to engage in the fight. Three times the missions he was responsible for had failed, mainly due to the fact that there was no one in control on-site, and three times his lord had expressed his displeasure with Severus. He was happy with his mask these days. Lately, Severus Snape looked a lot as if he could be Alastor Moody's long-lost brother, right down to his prosthetic left arm. He hadn't lost any eyes, though. _Yet_, he thought bitterly.

He still remembered that night vividly. The Dark Lord had come to his bed right after the breach of Azkaban prison was completed. He'd made a show of concern for Severus' health and offered him a silvery magical arm, with a nasty smirk on his horrible face. Severus had declined politely and opted for the ugly regular prosthetic. As opposed to Mr. Pettigrew, he knew that the magical silver was irrevocably poisonous after a few short years. He estimated that dear Peter had about two or three more years to live. The Dark Lord had accepted his choice gracefully and left the infirmary after wishing him a quick recuperation, and granting him a Cruciatus treatment for a few long, agonising moments. Severus smirked for a second, remembering Peter's face when Severus declined the Dark Lord's offer and explained why. The stupid sod had probably come to the infirmary with the Dark Lord to gloat.

They were walking through the deserted corridors heading to the holding cells on level four. Snape took care to have all his men Disillusioned and they did not use the elevators. The last thing he needed was to have his mission ruined by an elevator malfunction, or meeting the wrong person in a corridor. They reached the last corner before the entrance to the holding cells.

"Stop!" Snape ordered in a whisper. He wanted to go over their plans before charging into the Aurors' sight. At the back of the largish group of both new and experienced Death Eaters, two didn't hear the order, or maybe they weren't listening. In any case, Ben Seagull and Beatrice Fog walked into the Disillusioned men in front of them, resulting in a huge haze and two Death Eaters losing their Disillusionment charm.

"Who's there?! Halt!"

Jill, Rose, and Adrian were walking back from their regular post at the entrance to Courtroom Ten to the restroom located near the holding cells. With them walked Daniel, of their squad, with a message from Head Auror Abigail Clifford at the courtroom to senior Auror Aidan Tyler at the holding cells. It was nothing of too much importance, just a notice that the speeches were not yet over and he should keep the prisoners for the next group of trials in their cells for a while longer. Turning a corner, they noticed a large Magical haze and two black-clothed figures appearing just at the next corner, before the holding cell centre.

The bright purple curse that came in response to their call was evidence enough of the identity of these wizards. Luckily the curse wasn't well aimed, and it hit the ceiling.

"You four." Snape released his Disillusionment and pointed at the last of his group. "Go get them, and don't let them alert anyone. You," he ordered the four new guys walking right behind him. "Charge around the corner and get the guards at the door. We must get in before they have a chance to lock us out."

The four rushed forward, probably towards their deaths. "Nott, Carrow, follow them and make sure it is done!" Snape ordered. It was clear that he intended to command this fight from the backlines. He took a minute to listen to the noises of the battle from around the corner; then he looked at the rest of his men. "Follow them and do your work, or our lord is not going to be happy with you," he ordered. "Merlin help you if I think you didn't do your best. And drop the Disillusionment – we don't need self-inflicted injuries. Now go!" He took another moment to listen, and then walked around the corner to follow his men.

The four young trainee Aurors found themselves defending against an attack they were not prepared to handle. It was mostly the intimidation, since the four Death Eaters attacking them were young too, and even less trained then they were. Rose was hit first, before any of them even had the sense to conjure shields. The Death Eaters attacking them used cutting curses for the most part, and one of the blue and purple curses nicked her on her upper leg, dropping her screaming to the floor. They were all retreating under the attack, and by the time any of them noticed what had happened they were too far behind Rose to give any kind of assistance.

"Rose!" Jill cried, looking on in horror as three curses hit her friend at once, silencing her. She and Adrian used the Death Eaters' occupation with their now-dead friend to throw a few curses of their own, hitting one of the Death Eaters who fell motionless to the floor and countering one of the others' Disillusionment. Jill took one last look at her friend's body and sent one last Reducto curse at the haze of the last Disillusioned Death Eater, dropping his camouflage charm, before retreating around the corner and letting the next volley of curses splash on the wall across from her, sending debris everywhere.

"I...I'm going for help!" Daniel stammered and rushed down the corridor, away from the advancing Death Eaters.

"Dan! Damn you!" Adrian shouted after his retreating back.

_So much for Gryffindor courage__!_ Jill thought to herself."Come, don't just stand there!" She rushed to Adrian, pushing him behind her along the wall to the side of the corner. The first Death Eater who appeared around the corner was dropped with a Reducto; the second was ready with a shield. Two blue curses were now rushing toward them, and Jill and Adrian retreated around the next corner. Not fast enough – Adrian screamed as one of the blue rays of magic connected with his upper arm, leaving him with a very deep cut. They weren't yet prepared for battle, and they were certainly not prepared for the pain of injury.

Jill half pushed, half carried her friend down the corridor, trying to think of an idea to save their lives. Finally she pushed Adrian into an empty office, silencing his cry of pain with a flick of her wand. She turned around and vanished the stains of Adrian's blood from the floor, hit the office door with a light Notice-Me-Not charm, and managed to close the door behind her back just before the two remaining Death Eaters peeked around the corner.

"_Colloportus_," she mumbled at the door, and then added every locking charm she knew. Then she silenced the door, for good measure. Turning around, she saw Adrian sitting on the floor, his back to the wall and terror in his eyes.

"Come," she said softly, "let me see what I can do with this injury." First aid was certainly _not_ her best discipline of magic.

No one came through the door to attack them, and there were no noises of anyone trying to break her charmwork on it. She turned the office's tables and barricaded one of the room's corners, but put Adrian and herself in another corner, under Disillusionment. She did her best for her friend. She cleared all the bloodstains from the floor. Now she had nothing to do but wait with her wand pointed at the door. Her Ravenclaw mind couldn't refrain from analyzing her situation. The first Death Eater to enter the room was in for a surprise. She could probably defend against one more, if he wasn't the best of fighters. She could do nothing against more than two. Her best hope was for her weak charm on the door to go unnoticed and wait for help to come. Maybe, if help came soon, Adrian would keep his arm...

Outside the office door two young and confused Death Eaters looked at the empty corridor, not noticing the charmed door right beside them. They shrugged and went back to help the rest of their group take on the holding cell block, delaying only for a short moment to make sure that their fallen friends – well, no, associates – were indeed dead.

Back at the holding cell block, war raged. The two Aurors guarding the entrance managed to hit two of the attacking Death Eaters, killing one and severely wounding the other, before they were overwhelmed by the others. One of the Aurors was killed at his post; the other tried to run inside and lock the heavy door. Sadly, he slipped in his own blood and slid away from the locking button, helplessly watching the Death Eaters rush past him. At first no one took any notice of him. Only when he used his wand to hit one of the charging Death Eaters in the back did Alexander Nott notice him and finish him off.

The first block of cells was lost almost immediately. The two Aurors on guard were killed even before they had the time or presence of mind to draw out their wands. Another Auror was lucky enough to be standing where he was protected by the doorframe between the first two cell blocks, and he had the presence of mind to hit the locking button, sealing Aidan's squad inside the inner part of the cell block.

A few of the attacking Death Eaters moved to open the freed cells. They handed their liberated comrades general-use wands and urged them to go and help in the attack. Most concentrated on breaking the wards on the locked door to gain access to the inner parts of the holding cells.

Snape walked slowly after his charges, smiling softly to himself while making sure that all the Aurors he found were indeed dead. Finally, something was working according to plan.

The fight over the next section's door became a battle of power. The door only had a small reservoir, so three of the Aurors pointed their wands at the charging runes to lend magic to the wards. Curse Breakers on the other side were working on breaking the rune-lines while other Death Eaters just kept hitting the door with whatever they could in order to waste the ward's magic.

"Can't hold it much longer," seethed one of the Aurors at the door. Two fresh Aurors came to relieve the first ones and groaned under the pressure.

"Get the prisoners out to the next block!" Aidan ordered, and Aurors rushed to carry out his orders.

"The Dark Lord is coming to get you," one of the younger prisoners, screeched at the Auror who opened his cell. "You're all going to die!"

"Oh, shut up!" groaned the Auror and he Stunned the man before levitating him through the next door.

One of the prisoners tried to attack the Auror who opened his cell. She stopped him with a quick Reducto.

"Make sure they're Stunned or bound _before_ you open the cell," Aidan ordered.

"Sorry!" called the Auror. She cursed the prisoner once more, to make sure he wasn't going to attack anyone again, and rushed to the next cell.

"Berne, Floo the courtroom and tell them about the attack," was Aidan's next order.

"Let me out of here and give me my wand!" Hermione shouted.

"It's off!"

"Let me out!"

"Shut up! What's off?"

"The Floo – it's off!"

Just then an Auror arrived at Hermione's cell levitating two Stunned prisoners in front of her. "Move back!" she ordered.

"I'm not moving anywhere."

"Move back! I need to put them in and don't want to have to Stun you too."

"Make a Portkey and go there yourself," Aidan ordered. "We must inform them of the attack and we need _help_."

"You're mad! You're going to put them in with _me_?!" Hermione was fast becoming desperate. "They'll kill me. _I_ probably got them put in here in the first place."

"We can't hold them back much longer," came a call from the door. "We need to fall back!"

"I can't Port out. The Ministry must be in lockdown!"

"**Aidan!**"

Aidan was loosing control of the situation, and was starting to panic.

"**Let me out!**" Hermione all but screamed in panic.

Finally Auror Price made the decision. He opened Hermione's cell and threw a general-use wand to her. "Here, help Auror York with the prisoners.

"Kendal!" Aidan protested.

"We need all the wands we can get!" Auror Price growled in response.

Hermione caught the wand and rushed past Auror York to the door. She pointed the wand at the door and started pouring magic into the charging runes. The two Aurors by the door sighed in relief and sank to the floor.

"Get up, fools. I'll buy us some time – go and fall back to the next block!"

The two Aurors rushed to their feet and went on to transfer the prisoners.

"Get me another wand and I'll notify the courtroom for you," Hermione called without looking back.

"I don't know where your wand is."

"Never mind _my_ wand, just get me another one!"

Without a word, Auror York handed Hermione her own backup wand.

"Thanks!" Hermione said softly.

Tayla York nodded and rushed into the Auror office to get herself a new backup wand.

Hermione concentrated for a short moment and three small silvery otters rushed out of her wand and disappeared into the floor. Then she turned her new wand toward the second charging rune and concentrated on keeping the wards up. "Hurry!" she said between clenched teeth.

Aidan Tyler was afraid, and was angry with himself. He was angry about losing control of the situation; he was angry he had forgotten about the Messenger Patronus charm; and mainly, he was angry about being afraid.

"You, you, and you." He pointed at three of his men. "Go back in and prepare shelter for us to fight from behind."

"Aye, sir!"

"You and you." He pointed at two others. "Prepare to shield the next block on my command!"

"Aye, sir!"

"The rest of you bring the prisoners back, take cover, and prepare to fight. It's time we charged them for this attack on us!"

"**Aye, sir!**"

Aidan Tyler was about to take charge and fight back.

"_Hurryyyy!" _called Hermione. "The charging runes are disintegrating. I can't hold them back much longer!"

"Ready!" came the call from the Aurors."

"**Down!**" Hermione shouted, and she ran away from the door. Behind her back the iron door disintegrated and exploded outward, leaving the floor covered with bloody black-clothed bodies.

"What was _that?__!__"_ Tayla asked her from behind a conjured rock shelter.

"Nice charm, isn't it?" Hermione grinned back.

In the external cell block, Severus Snape lost his smile. He didn't even _want_ to know how many of the Death Eaters had been killed by the exploding door. Luckily – if one could see it that way – most of the injured and dead Death Eaters were young and new guys, since the older, more experienced among them knew to keep to the back, as long as the Dark Lord wasn't watching. The only meaningful loss was one of his two Curse Breakers. He ordered his men on.

"Shield them!" he ordered three of his better charges, who gave him a mean look but rushed to comply.

Severus _really_ needed to finish this off.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Standing trial – Lord Iyov Leach, formerly of the esteemed Wizengamot!" called the clerk, and Mr. Leach was unceremoniously ushered from the prisoner's cage and dropped into the accused's chair, where he was chained immediately. Minister Scrimgeour was about to direct the Wizengamot when all hell broke loose. All at once curses started to fly around the courtroom from all directions. Two Wizengamot members were cursing their comrades, people from the audience were cursing the Aurors, and there was some noise from the corridor outside.

Most of the first volley of curses was aimed at the Minister, who luckily had the presence of mind to drop to the floor, thereby saving his life. All around the courtroom people were screaming and running around, while others whom they thought to be their friends were cursing them. Chaos reigned for a long while, and casualties were piling up on the wrong side.

"**Down!**"

Luna's voice carried over the noise of the battle and the hysterical crowd, amplified by a Sonorus charm. _It's amazing just how much a crowd behaves like a herd_, she thought as she and Ginny targeted the ones still standing. Of the seven men they hit, four were actually Death Eaters using Polyjuice or people under the Imperius. Sadly, some people wouldn't listen to orders. Luckily, of the other three, only one would die.

Samson Dukelow wasn't clever; he was a coward and a sheep. He stood in his cell, disguised as an old and lonely Wizengamot member using the Polyjuice potion, and cursing the other Wizengamot members while their backs were turned to him. When he heard Luna's order he just cowered on the floor like a good sheep. Two rows behind him Neville took notice and made sure he would never get up.

Else Jugson was neither a coward nor a sheep. She just figured that she had done enough damage and decided not to push her luck. She screamed and huddled with the crowd and simply disappeared. She would use the crowd cover to get out as the storm settled, unless her associate Death Eaters assumed total control over the room.

"Secure!" called one of the Aurors from the courtroom's floor.

Harry looked around, seeing nothing but the panicked crowd and a litter of bodies. Aurors were rushing to see to the wounded and Portkey them to the hospital.

"It can't be over," Neville whispered, mostly to himself, still holding his wand at the ready.

Harry shook his head in agreement. "Can we Port Hermione's parents home?" he asked. Around him the girls were rushing to help the Aurors treat the wounded.

"Portkeys won't work!" shouted one of the Aurors over the noise of the panicked crowd.

Harry turned sharply to look at Neville, who shook his head at him in response.

"**Everyone lie low!**" Luna amplified her voice again, and once more she was effective. "**And be quiet!**" she tried, but this was really asking too much.

"Take this and take them home," Harry said, handing Neville his pen.

Neville looked at the thing, bewildered.

"It's a Muggle sort of quill. Just get a hold of them, think of the place you want to go, and press the bottom at the end," Harry explained, while keeping an alert eye on the surrounding activity.

Neville rushed to Hermione's parents and a short moment later they phased out of view. At that moment a silvery otter appeared through the ceiling and startled Harry as it dissolved into his chest. "Hermione!" he called, drawing the attention of the girls around him. A few seconds later, before he even had time to explain, the courtroom door exploded inward, wounding, or killing – Harry had no way of knowing which – an elderly Auror who was standing too close.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't one to approach her enemies in stealth or send her men in front of her for her own protection. It wasn't that she was brave or a great leader – she was just mad like that. On the other hand, there was a lot to be said about the benefits of the direct approach in battle, and certainly about the benefits of intimidation.

In front of Courtroom Ten's gates was a large entry hall dedicated to official press conferences and pre-trial gatherings of the important wizards usually involved in trials that required a full Wizengamot session. On both sides of the court's gates were two antechambers. One was used for the court officials and had a connecting door into the courtroom itself. The other was a guard's restroom. Senior Aurors Tonks and Rickard were in the restroom with a few of their men.

"Can't wait for this day to be over," Tonks mumbled.

Kleio chuckled softly at her young colleague. "The day has just started. And you won't have to throw people to their death. Just lean back and enjoy the rest – you'll have time enough to worry later."

"I just don't know. I've had this bad feeling since the moment I got up this morning."

"Nothing is going to happen, Tonks. They'll never dare to attack here, while we're alert."

Outside the room, Bellatrix's intimidation was taking effect. Three Death Eaters appeared at the head of the stairs leading to level ten of the Ministry complex, walking briskly toward the security post. The security post was manned by three young Aurors of Tonks' squad, who were caught completely by surprise. One of them was killed immediately. Another was wounded and did his best to crawl away from the advancing Death Eaters and their dreadful leader. The third managed to raise a shield. His shield held for a few long seconds, buying his friend time to try and get away and buying the two more experienced Aurors who were walking the hall time to call for help. Finally his shield was pierced with the red beam of the Cruciatus Curse. He didn't have time to cry out in pain before two Reductor curses killed him on the spot. The Death Eaters walked past him, not even bothering to look down.

The Two Aurors in the entry hall had little time to react, and a little more experience to make good use of the time. Dick ran to the court official's chamber and had only enough time to open the door before a curse hit him and dropped him. The Aurors inside rushed for their wands. Emerson had the presence of mind to raise his shield as he rushed to the Auror restroom. As it was, he managed to get to the room shaken but unharmed.

"_Accio_ Dick," Keio called, as she noticed the wounded body of one of her Aurors on the floor across from them. She was sickened to see his body hit by another curse while it was in the air. She put his body under medical stasis and looked up; there would be time to treat wounds later.

Tonks tried to look out but had to duck back in to evade the curses flying at her. All she could see was the crowd of Death Eaters at the other end of the hall and the bodies of Aurors littering the floor. _Her Aurors_ mostly! She started throwing curses through the partly open door, not even able to aim with any accuracy. She was perversely satisfied to hear cries of pain, indicating that some of her curses had found targets. On the other side of the corridor one of Kleio's men did basically the same thing.

Tonks was replaced at the door by another of Kleio's squad, who tried to peek outside and dropped immediately. Kleio summoned him further in and put him under medical stasis, but Tonks had the nagging feeling that he was bleeding too much from his head to be fine. _Not now, stupid_, she reproached herself in her mind.

The fight settled to a standstill for a short time. The gates of the courtroom were warded and silenced, and stood against the Death Eaters' effort for a while. Any of the Death Eaters who tried to approach the gates in an effort to break them down was caught in the crossfire between the two antechambers and instantly killed. At the moment the Aurors were making no effort to arrest anyone. On the other side of the gates the Death Eaters had the advantage of being able to fight freely, while the trapped Aurors could only fight two at a time, and couldn't aim at all.

"I can't Floo or use Portkeys!" called an Auror who was trying to evacuate the wounded to St. Mungo's.

"We're in lockdown!" Kleio answered.

"That's stupid!" the Auror shouted.

"That's orders," she answered. "In case of attack we're to lock up the location so we can trap the attacking Death Eaters. Otherwise they'd just attack us by surprise and flee before we have the chance to hit them back."

"Right now _we_ are the ones being trapped!" he shouted at his superior, not happy at all with her explanation.

"There must be Aurors at their backs, too," she said in an effort to calm him down. "We just need to hold on a little while longer."

Tonks was back at the door when a silvery otter appeared through the floor and sank into her chest. She stumbled back in surprise, giving the Death Eaters a momentary advantage.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The hall was illuminated green light as three Killing Curses arced and hit the court's gate, breaking it open. Having an opening, the Death Eaters rushed forward. Tonks had time to hit one of the wizards running past her before she had no choice but to slam the door shut, seal it, and ward it. On the other side of the hall, one of Kleio's men did exactly the same thing.

"Aidan is trapped at the cell blocks under attack," Tonks said with an empty tone.

"Right! Spread out and Transfigure the furniture into some decent cover." Kleio took command over the room. "There are ten of us here, and if they try to break in we'll have the advantage as long as we're behind shelter. We'll give them five minutes and then try to break out!"

Her men hurried to comply.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"**Dobby!**" Harry shouted, while cursing the first dark figure that appeared at the door, dropping him.

"Harry Potter sir called?"

Harry cursed the next figure at the door. The third grabbed him and used him as a shield, and managed to enter the courtroom and find shelter.

"Can you get to Hermione?"

Soon the courtroom floor was swarmed with Death Eaters, and the Aurors and officials still standing fled either up into the stands or into the staff chamber. Minister Scrimgeour hid crouched on top of the central podium. He Transfigured the wood railing into iron and hoped that no stray curse would hit him. He got ready to attack the first Death Eater who tried to have a look inside but knew that if that happened, it would be his last stand. It had nothing to do with bravery or fighting spirit; standing on top of a raised platform in the middle of a firefight tends to put a person at an overwhelming disadvantage, and the Minister was very much interested in living another day.

"Go there and see if she needs help!" Harry shouted over the noise of the battle, trying to keep the attacking Death Eaters on the floor. "Please," he added, seconds after the elf disappeared.

"Mind the prisoners!" Susan called.

On the floor, most of the Death Eaters took cover and occupied themselves throwing curses at the stands in an effort to make everyone keep their heads down. Others rushed to the prisoners' cage and started working on the locks. Another Death Eater handed the prisoners general-use wands.

Sue, Ginny, and Luna did their best to stop the Death Eaters from unlocking the prisoners' cage, but the Death Eaters were on the far side of the cage hiding behind the prisoners. The girls had a horrible time knowing that they were cursing locked-up people, but these locked-up people were Death Eaters who now had wands and were throwing curses at the stands at random, looking for targets. The girls concentrated their curses on the cage; trying to penetrate the protection the prisoners were now giving the Death Eaters who were trying to free them. It didn't work, but by the time the cage was opened half of the prisoners were no longer standing.

"**Out and up!**" came the order, and the Death Eaters started backing out of the room, taking the freed prisoners with them. Harry, Neville, and friends rushed to follow, followed by a collection of unorganized Aurors.

"Kleio, see what you can do for the wounded," Abigail ordered. "You others, go after them and try to hit them from behind." She walked briskly out of the courtroom. _Where the hell are Stan and Kingsley?_ she thought.

All through the fight, Lord Iyov Leach, formerly of the Wizengamot, sat on the high accused's seat, chained to the chair, and looked around as death raged, hoping that no stray curse would hit him. Now he watched the Minister limp toward him.

"Did you enjoy the show, Lord Leach?"

Iyov looked at him, terrified.

"I'm sorry that your friends ruined your trial for you. Now I will put you back into the cage with your wounded friends. In a few minutes the Aurors will finish treating all the wounded Aurors and guests. Then they will see you all thrown through the Veil."

Iyov wanted to say something, but could think of nothing. He looked around frantically, hoping to get hold of one of the deserted wands that were lying around.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Scrimgeour incanted. "We can't have you running around trying to grab a wand, can we? Just enjoy what little time you still have."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Is Mistress Granger Is fine?"

The cell block fight had been at a standstill for quite a long time now. The last block entry was different from the other blocks' doors. Since this was the high-security ward, its door had massive magical protection, complete with a decent sized reservoir. The wards' physical gates had disintegrated long before, but the magical wards still held and prevented any magic but the Unforgivable from entering. On the other side of the wards, groups of three Death Eaters, on rotation, were doing basically the same thing as the Aurors but for the other side. As it was, the Aurors managed to sneak only a very few curses through the Death Eaters' shields. The Death Eaters were using Unforgivable Curses, but the Aurors had good enough shelter not to be harmed. All the while the Curse Breaker was working on the wards, hidden from the Aurors' sight.

Hermione was startled to see Dobby suddenly standing right behind her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down behind the shelter she was using, mere seconds before a blood-red curse crossed the space where he had stood and splashed harmlessly on the wall behind them.

"**Shields!**" one of the Aurors warned.

Everyone raised the strongest shields they were capable of as the room was illuminated a sickly green. Magical shields couldn't protect them from the Killing Curse, but they were all safe behind physical shelters, and the magical shields did a good enough job against the debris. One of the Aurors Transfigured the debris into a new shelter, and the stand-off continued.

"As well as can be expected," she answered, sarcasm clear in her voice.

"Can Dobby help you in any way?"

"Not right now, thank you," she answered without thinking. "Dobby!" she called after the little elf started to phase out.

"Yes, Mistress?" Dobby reappeared.

"Do you know where my wand is?"

"Dobby will get Mistress' wand from the house," he nodded, and he disappeared.

"And Dobby?!"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"My armour..."

"Right away, Mistress!"

"And please don't call me Mistress," she told the air where Dobby had been standing seconds ago.

"**Shields!**"

"We really need to get out of here," Tayla mumbled, lying low under her shield as debris from one of the shelters flew above.

"Your wand, Mistress." Dobby bowed, holding out Hermione's wand, a set of perfectly ironed black clothing in his other hand.

"Elves are not allowed..." Tayla started to say, but stopped as soon when she noticed the look Hermione was giving her.

"Thanks, Dobby!" Hermione said and grabbed the wand and clothes.

Dobby bowed again. "Certainly, Mistress," he said, and he shimmered out of the room.

"Don't call me..." Hermione started to say, but there was no more Dobby to say it to.

Back at Grimmauld Place's living room Dobby stood smiling to himself.

Hermione lay down on her back and started to undo her clothes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tayla hissed at her.

"Dressing for the occasion?" was Hermione's reply, as she was left with only her underwear on. "Shield me!" Soon she was ready and smiled softly to herself, stretching her body in her comfortable black clothes. She turned and crawled toward Aidan.

"We need to break out of here!" she hissed.

"We can't get past their shields."

"I'll get them down; get your men ready to attack."

Aidan tried to take a peek at the Death Eaters, but a Cruciatus Curse heading right for him forced him back down. He looked at Hermione for a long moment, then nodded and went over to whisper orders to his men.

Back at her shelter Hermione worked on conjuring a large stone. "At the next call for shields I want you to levitate this slowly toward the wards."

Tayla nodded in understanding. Hermione rolled to her front and thought about hatred. It wasn't something she was familiar with, but the memory of the Dark Mark shining over her burning home helped some.

"Almost there!" call the Curse Breaker from the other side of the wards.

"Get ready and keep your heads down!" Severus ordered.

"_**Avada Kedavra!**_" cried two of the Death Eaters.

"**Shields!**" shouted one of the Aurors.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Hermione heard Tayla chant by her side.

She jumped to her feet, pointed her two wands at two of the Death Eaters shielding their friends, and chanted one word: "_Crucio!_"

It wasn't a _real_ Cruciatus Curse – Hermione didn't have enough hatred in her for that, not for the specific faceless Death Eaters she was targeting, in any case. In all honesty it was nothing more than a very effective stinging curse, but it was of the right magical matrix, and it did penetrate the Death Eaters' shields, and surprised them enough to drop their shields. She noticed her shield stone disintegrating in front of her under the Death Eaters' attack and was hit all over her body with debris. Most of her body was protected by her armour, but her face was scratched heavily, miraculously missing her eyes, and large shrapnel broke her left hand. It didn't matter, though –out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Aurors rushing past her, cursing the Death Eaters.

Two Aurors went to each side of the door; most ran straight.

"Stop them, fools!" Severus shouted, but he already knew his mission was over. Seconds later he saw his last Curse Breaker die. The inner cell block was now out of his reach. His orders had never been to conquer the place, just free the prisoners and flee. He'd freed all the prisoners he managed to reach. It was now time for him to get out of there, and hopefully bring his charges with him. Severus sent one last Killing Curse into the crowd of Aurors and ran.

Hermione watched the room in front of her emptying of all the people as the Aurors chased the fleeing Death Eaters. The floor was littered with bodies and blood, and the room was filled with cries of pain. It seemed to be getting darker around her, and she was starting to lose her footing.

"Here, let me help you down," came a voice from behind her, and hands held her and helped her down. "Rest now, you did your part."

Hermione shook her head. "I need to go. Do you have any Pepper-Up potion? Can you fix my hand?"

"You can't go like this, you need to rest!"

"Harry will need me," she insisted.

Tayla handed her a vial from a chest in the office and mumbled something while she swirled her wand over Hermione's hand. "I don't want to touch your face. You'll have scars unless a qualified Healer does the work."

"It's all right. My face won't hinder me in a fight. Are you coming?"

Tayla nodded and helped Hermione to her feet. Hermione grabbed a general-use wand out of the fingers of a dead Death Eater and walked slowly toward the noise of the now distant battle, checking bodies for signs of life, putting the wounded under medical stasis, and removing Portkeys from Death Eaters' bodies on the way.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Daniel is dead!"

The squads of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Stan Lucas were on security detail outside of the Ministry complex. One of the patrols had just discovered Daniel Quigg's body near the visitor entrance to the Ministry complex, surrounded by a crowd of Muggles.

Stan and Kingsley looked at each other for a moment.

"Come with me!" Stan finally ordered. "We're going in to investigate. Kingsley will see to the security and Muggle containment."

"I'm putting the Ministry under lockdown!" Kingsley notified them.

Stan nodded in understanding and led his men into the Ministry. Walking toward the security desk they noticed the bodies of Wallace, Isabella, and Anne.

"Wands!" Stan ordered, but all his men already had their wands drawn. "Janet – take four of the men and go toward the holding cells. Don't use the elevators and don't get killed! If someone comes your way, charge a toll and get out of the way."

Janet nodded, signalled to her men, and rushed away.

"Jack, Pam, Colin – you stay here, and be very careful. Don't get into a fight with a superior force without having more men with you. The rest of you are with me."

Outside, Kingsley was getting frustrated. The Muggle crowd stayed even after an extensive Notice-Me-Not charm was put on the alley. Muggle police insisted on investigating the crime scene, even after Kingsley waved his MI-5 badge and claimed command of the scene. Then things really deteriorated.

The first sign of trouble was the frightened sound of the crowd. People started looking behind them and distancing themselves from the alley. The alley was illuminated by the bright green light of a Dark Mark, which rose over the Ministry complex. Then two men approached the visitor entrance. Kingsley Shacklebolt had never seen Voldemort in person but had no doubt about the identity of the tall man. A policeman tried to stop them from approaching the alley, but he was Banished away into the crowd. Kingsley readied his wand and prepared himself for a confrontation but Voldemort just smiled at him, leaving Kingsley a bit nauseous, and the pair disappeared into the Ministry.

Kingsley and his men exchanged confused looks.

"We're following them in." Kingsley finally answered the question his men had not asked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Downstairs, chaos ruled. Janet and Stan met incoming Death Eaters who were returning from the holding cells and the courtroom, followed by pursuing Aurors. According to Stan's instructions they didn't look for a fight but let the Death Eaters pass them, both teams managing to hit a few of the fleeing Death Eaters from behind. Pam and Colin barricaded themselves in the corner of the elevator hall together with Daniel, who found his way to them. Jack lost his life buying them the time to flee from Voldemort.

Kingsley's squad barricaded themselves by the visitor entry and did their best to stop the Death Eaters from leaving the Ministry complex that way. The back stairs were blocked by the Aurors, who were trying to push the Death Eaters into the Atrium and get to the three Aurors trapped in the corner. After a while they managed it and the three Aurors fled to the back stairs, leaving the Elevator hall mostly to the Death Eaters.

"Done!"

"Done!"

"Rookwood? Malfoy?"

None of the Death Eaters knew the answer. "Rookwood did his job, since the Floo is off. They might have gone that way," Severus finally said.

"Who's holding them in?" Harry and friends managed to fight their way through the Aurors to the head of the back stairs.

"It can only be Kingsley's squad; they're the only ones not here."

"They'll need reinforcements if they're to hold. He can't hold the Death Eaters back with only twelve men," Stanford remarked.

"Where are they?"

"Probably the other side of the Atrium, near the visitor entry. That's the only post that will stop the Death Eaters from leaving," George offered.

"Get me a squad of Aurors and I'll get them to him," Harry offered.

They all looked at him.

"It doesn't matter how, I just would," he snapped.

They decided to go out the alley and back in through the visitor entry.

"You-Know-Who!" Kingsley hissed as they entered.

"Take positions!" Stanford ordered.

"Right, let us leave this place," Voldemort said, and he turned to look at the Aurors behind him for the first time. "You might like to move and let us leave," he said.

"I don't think so..."

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry sidestepped the slow curse, which went on to hit one of the shelters the Aurors had conjured, and shrapnel flew in every direction. Harry's sphere shield flared and the shrapnel fell to the ground harmlessly. "I can't believe I was once afraid of that curse," he said dismissively.

The next curse was a storm of ice that attacked Harry from all sides. Two Aurors and three Death Eaters were caught unprepared; Harry's shield held. He started moving to the side of the Atrium, trying to draw the fire away from the Aurors, who were starting to direct magic at the standing Death Eaters. Shouts of encouragement flared through the Death Eater crowd, and the battle resumed. While Harry kept Voldemort occupied on one side of the Atrium, the Aurors held the Death Eaters back from the entrance. Caught in between, the Death Eaters became desperate.

Drawing the fire away from the Aurors was quite a literal description, since Voldemort's next attack was with fire. Harry conjured ice to shield against it. The battle became one of endurance, and the Atrium filled with vapours, blocking everyone's sight. Voldemort was starting to believe he'd gotten the annoying kid when two strong Reductors hit him from the side, breaking his left hand and a few ribs and throwing him into the Aurors' line of fire, where he fought desperately to hold his shield against the Reductors and cutting curses that were hitting him from both sides. His retaliation threw Aurors and Death Eaters alike through the air, killing at least two who had the misfortune of landing hard on hard surfaces.

"You should work on your aim, Tommy," Harry remarked sarcastically, before he had to run and dodge Voldemort's counterattack. This tactic of never staying in a single place for more than a few seconds showed promise. Harry was just anxious about not being able to Apparate as he was used to.

Voldemort was seething. It was quite obvious that he had only a rather small magical advantage over the kid, if any, and whatever magical advantage he had, the fool compensated for by moving all around. All this running around harmed the kid's aim, and whatever curses he managed to lay on Voldemort were straightforward Reductos and cutting and piercing curses, which had no chance at all of overcoming his shield. It was the mere fact that he actually needed his shield that infuriated Voldemort. Not only that, but he himself was having a very hard time getting in a hit, and his curses were equally unable to cut through the kid's shield.

Voldemort was not used to a moving battle. On the rare occasions when he found himself in battle, it was usually he who did all the moving – forward – and he tended to rely on his magic and intimidation to make the battle very one-sided. He knew people used to say that Dumbledore was the only one he feared, but he didn't actually fear the ancient wizard. It was more that he was reluctant to fight him since he had very little in magical advantage over the old wizard and very little advantage in intimidation too. He had never feared the man since he knew his life was not in any danger while fighting him.

The Potter kid was something completely different. He didn't seem to have an ounce of fear in him, and he didn't lack in magical skill, either. In this situation they seemed to be at an impasse, and Potter looked like he could keep this stand-off running (literally) all day long. Voldemort was quite capable of keeping his side up for a very long time too, but he knew that eventually he would start to tire magically, and in the meantime his servants were trapped by the Aurors and were suffering casualties. He'd tried luring the kid into traps, but it wasn't working for him. For a start, he was too occupied with the fight to create elaborate traps, and Potter seemed to be able to walk through them without even noticing them. For a moment Voldemort was certain he'd gotten the advantage, when Potter ran over a section of the floor he'd managed to cover with ice while the kid was on the other side of the fountain, but the brat just ran over it like nothing was there. Upon a second check, nothing _was_ actually there. The Potter kid somehow managed to notice the ice and negate the charm while running, at the same time using _both_ his wands to fire curses at Voldemort nonstop. Voldemort needed a way out and he needed a new strategy. At least he knew what the stupid brat was planning – he was like an open book.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione finished the long walk from the holding cells to the elevator hall stairs. There were lots of Aurors and Death Eaters in sight, basically holding each other at bay, but no Harry to be seen.

"He went out with Senior Auror Lucas' squad to help Senior Auror Shacklebolt and his men hold the Death Eaters in," George answered.

"By the sound of the Death Eaters, he's fighting You-Know-Who," Head Auror Abigail Clifford added.

"YOU LET HARRY GO FIGHT VOLDEMORT BY HIMSELF?"

Everyone cringed; it was uncertain whether it was because of the voicing of You-Know-Who's name or because of Hermione's ire.

"We must get to him!"

"And just how are you planning to get through all the Death Eaters?"

"We're going to use these," Hermione answered, and she took a small pile of rune-covered pebbles out of her pocket."

Ginny took one hesitantly. "Explosive?"

"Banishers!"

"Banishers?"

"To create enough distraction for us to be able to pass," Hermione explained.

"Neville, you'll need to clear the way for us. Who's coming?" Tonks asked.

Ginny bounce the stone in her hand and nodded at Tonks.

"It's set to go off on contact," Hermione whispered to Ginny's ear, and she immediately stopped the bouncing.

Luna snatched a couple of stones and smiled dreamily at Ginny. Sue and a couple of Aurors joined them, but when Ron reached for a stone Tonks shook her head.

"Right, girls. We're gonna make a run for it. Neville and George are going to make us an opening. When we go through, the front runners will keep opening the path. The back runners will use the pebbles to keep the Death Eaters we've passed from attacking us from behind. Ready?"

Harry was getting desperate. His fight with Voldemort was going nowhere. Usually when he fought Voldemort, it was Voldemort who was trying to kill Harry, and Harry just trying to get away from him. Right now Harry was the only person with the opportunity to leave and fight another day. If he were to run away he would be the Boy-Who-Lived once more –but at everyone else's expense. He needed to do something new.

"_Sometimes you need to make a sacrifice in order to win_," Ron had once said, when they were first years. Harry stopped to receive Voldemort's next curse, which proved to be a big mistake. That was the opening Voldemort needed. Harry's shield held, but Harry himself was thrown into the near wall and fell to the floor with a very nasty crunch. He screamed in pain. He tried to get to his feet, but his legs wouldn't obey him; Voldemort was limping his way closer, batting at Harry's shield all the time.

"You're not bad for a stupid kid," he growled, "but if you want to surprise someone, you might like to keep that thought in your head. Now let's see if your shield can stand this – "

"_**Avada Kedavra!**_"

Voldemort screamed. It was a horrible sound of pain, fear, and anger all mixed. He turned, staggered, and banished Hermione into the ruins of the fountain, where she was stuck screaming, having been pierced through by the centaur's arrow. Voldemort was struggling to curse her once more when Harry managed to banish him into the crowd of Death Eaters.

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"Right, fellows, we did our work here. We're going out."

One of the new kids started towards the elevators, but Rookwood stopped him with a spark.

"This way," he said softly, pointing his finger at a blank wall. He put his hand to the wall and whispered something no one was able to hear, causing the wall to part and reveal a spiral stairway. "Secret!" he told his men in a hushed tone, pointing at the stairs. They climbed down the stairs in silence for a while until they reached a bare wooden door. Once again Rookwood whispered some obscure words at the door, which opened silently to revealing a clean, modern office. There on the desk was a box with three red buttons. Rookwood promptly pressed the one on the left, and all over the Ministry complex Death Eaters were whisked away by their Portkeys. In two different parts of the British isle, both Harry and Lord Voldemort sighed in relief – and pain.

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AN:

Well here is the other half of the battle of the Ministry, as I like to call it. It was a lot of work, so please tell me how it came out. It was written together with the last chapter I posted, and was only divided after the beta process.

I had a few people write to me that they are interested to see how I'm about to get our friends out of the mess unharmed, or, in contrast, to say that I shouldn't go too easy on them. I must say that I did my best not to do either. I took special care that no side could be regarded as the winner of the battle – it's too early for decisive wins or losses in my opinion. Again – tell me what you think and how it came out.

The next chapter is already written, but I'll delay a bit due to a beta situation that I'm sure will be resolved soon. You'll be delighted to hear that it'll be the longest yet, and Harry will get to know his Muggle OFC by the end of it (-;

I made some edits to all the early chapters. It's nothing to go back for. No changes were made to the storyline, but it incorporates few remarks I've received, and makes my writing a bit more readable.

Cheers!

Niv


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Two bloody miles and he was already drenched. _Two_ bloody, lousy miles! Usually he could run three of his usual five before breaking a sweat. Ever since his injury he couldn't manage to finish his standard five morning miles, and the Singapore weather wasn't helping at all. Hot and humid – whatever it was, whether clear, covered, or raining – it was hot and humid. And the rain! It was nothing like the nice English rain. English rain you could ignore and just keep on with whatever you were doing. It was a little bothersome for those who were unaccustomed, but if one was _English_ he would certainly be used to it by the time he was old enough to do anything at all. Here, the rain was different – it sent you running for cover. After two long weeks, Harry reached the conclusion that the reason the city had so many shopping malls was so people would always have a place to escape from the rain, and to buy a new shirt since the one they were wearing had got all sweaty in the (short) time since they'd bought it, one mall up the street.

_Right then, ran two miles, now just do it all over again! _

When he'd come to the city he was barely able to walk without aid, and he'd been working ever since to get his body back in shape. In a way, it was harder now than it had been in the beginning of the summer, for two main reasons: first, in the beginning of the summer Harry had been healthy and in decent physical shape, so he had a good starting point to work from. Two weeks ago his whole lower body had to be - well – _reconstructed_ seemed to be the appropriate word. The Healers explained that they'd had to regrow his pelvis and left femur. The femur wasn't a problem, they explained, but the pelvis has a spine connected to it, and inside the spine there are nerves... It all amounted to three very agonizing days in bed. Even Hermione was out of bed after just a day and a half, with her new kidney and all. Harry couldn't help wondering how long it had taken Voldemort to get all patched up. He hadn't seemed to be in such a wonderful state when the Portkey took him away.

_Just one more mile now..._

By now, Harry was already both drenched _and_ out of breath, and fighting, forcing his untrained and healing body to go on. For a minute he found his second wind and kept up with the tall blond girl who overtook him on the path between the trees. She was wearing dark blue training gear, although he didn't know why it was important enough to notice. He did notice that she was a very nice person to run behind, and after miles and miles of running behind girls like Hermione, Ginny, Su, and obviously Fleur, he considered himself to be somewhat of a connoisseur. Soon enough she disappeared ahead of him on the path, which twisted through the forest that flourished in the heart of the city, leaving Harry to labour at his run alone.

The forest was another interesting thing. After so many forays into the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, Harry considered himself to be somewhat of a connoisseur regarding forests as well, but nothing prepared him for this ancient rainforest that nestled at the heart of the city. The visitor's path wasn't cleared on the forest floor but was a wooden deck that twisted in between the trees, giving the impression that the foresters had taken special care not to disturb the forest. As far as forests go, this was the real thing. Harry jogged on the path, looking up and almost expecting Tarzan to come charging through with his pack of gorillas. Soon enough the forest path opened into the wide, manicured lawns of Singapore's botanical gardens, and the rain started to pour down on him. In the distance he could see his haven – the small tea house by the entrance to the park. He forced his tired body to sprint the few hundred yards to the tea house and slouched, panting, near a free table.

"Darjeeling, scones and cream, and a _large_ bottle of water, please," he said to the waiter. It had taken him about a week to understand that "tea", by itself, wasn't good enough for these people. The blond girl ran past the tea house, seemingly not bothered at all by the rain, and waved at Harry, giving him a cheeky smile. He was sitting there, still catching his breath and having breakfast, when she dropped into the chair across from him, startling him. He managed to stop himself from drawing his wand – just.

"Don't _do_ that to people!"

"Sorry," she shrugged, not looking sorry at all. "It's the only place open," she continued. "I'll have what he's having," she told the waiter, who nodded in understanding and walked away.

"Veronica," she said, reaching her hand across to Harry after wiping it on her wet running trousers.

"Harry," he answered, taking her wet hand carefully. This was a game they'd been playing for a week now – pretending not to know each other on their morning run.

"Working on your fitness?"

"Re-working," he answered. "I was injured, and I'm trying to get back on form."

"Oh!" was all she said. A shadow crossed her face for a moment, but her smile returned as soon as the waiter arrived with her order. She drank half a bottle of water in one go and turned back to Harry.

"So? Was it sexy or boring?"

"Huh?

"Well, did you fall during a cliff-climbing trip, or just get caught in a car accident?"

It took Harry a few seconds to shake the mental image of Tom Riddle standing over him with his wand out.

"There was nothing sexy about it," he said finally.

"Shame."

For a while they sat in silence, watching the green lawns of the gardens sparkle under the sun, which had reappeared.

"Some shopping?"

"Huh?"

"We're in Singapore, the shopping capital of Southeast Asia. Will – you – come – shopping – with –me?" she spelled out for him.

"Shopping? I'm a bloke – I don't do shopping."

"Shame."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Running?"

"Every day I'm not in the hospital wing."

"See you running, then." She smiled, left a note on the table, and disappeared out the garden gates.

Harry smiled softly to himself. He'd noticed her from the day he started running. She was a hard person not to notice, but he couldn't find a way to start talking to her. Now, two weeks later, he had something to look forward to tomorrow. A small distraction reminded him that he had to go take care of his sheep. Shaun and Bitzer were probably having one of their friendly disputes again. Then he had an important meeting tonight.

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It had started the day he arrived in Singapore. Actually, he wasn't sure just _why_ he'd arrived there. The first evening he returned home he'd said something about needing to get away from it all to take care of his mind. For weeks he'd been working on his Occlumency and was quite fond of his sheep. Then the first time his shield was actually tested, it turned out to be useless. He just _had_ to find a way to keep Tom out of his mind, and he had the impression that he needed to put some distance between him and Mr. I-Am-Lord-Voldemort for this to happen. Dobby read him a list of the Potter properties around the world, and when he reached the Singapore house Tonks said that a good friend of her was in Singapore at the time and said it was a cool place to go, so Singapore it was. Early next morning he took an international Portkey to Changi international Portkey terminal, from where he took a regular cab to his house's address.

It was an interesting story, actually.

On 29 January 1819, Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles landed on Singapore's main island and decided that the sleepy fishing community had the potential of becoming a strategic British stronghold in Southeast Asia, thus changing forever the fishermen's lives. Naturally, it was raining that day. Raffles signed a treaty with Sultan Hussein Shah on behalf of the Honourable East India Company to develop Singapore as a British trading post and settlement. An era of growth and ethnic migration started, largely spurred by a no-restriction immigration policy and the East India Company's monopoly over all European trade in Southeast Asia. The British India Office governed the island from 1858, even though it was already in the process of dissolution following the events of the Indian Rebellion of 1857. Singapore was made a British crown colony in 1867, answerable directly to the Crown. By that time 100,000 people lived on the island and trade flourished.

Singapore's city planning was a live experiment in the "Divide and Rule" framework that was such a favourite with the empire officers around the globe. Different ethnic groups were settled in different regions of the southern part of the island. The Singapore River was largely a commercial area that was dominated by traders and bankers of various ethnic groups, with mostly Chinese and Indian coolies working to load and unload goods for the well-being of the empire. As usual, the original inhabitants of the island were all but ignored by the new administration and were pushed inland by the new settlers, who found no use for them in the new and better community. The "Divide and Rule" policy backfired on the British governance everywhere it was employed – India, Cyprus, and Israel being interesting study examples – but surprisingly enough, in Singapore it created a cosmopolitan and interesting city to live in.

Apparently a young Potter Squib was an officer on Sir Thomas Raffles' fleet, and upon the establishing of Singapore as a British outpost he received the position of city clerk. The Potter House was at its peak back then and found it convenient to support their Squib son on the other side of the globe, far from the eyes of other English magical families. The family invested in a nice colonial house for their son and his wife, used their reasonable relations with the Goblins to ensure that trade would be sent in their son's direction and made sure to cement his position in the new colony within English politics. They also made sure to build a nice magical house right next to their son's home, in case they ever wanted to come and visit, or one of his descendants should ever reintroduce magic into that branch of the family. The Singapore Potters prospered for over a century, till World War II came and almost decimated the family. Most of the Singapore branch of the family died in Japanese prisoner camps, including their single magical descendant – a witch girl who was barely six years old at the time. The English branch of the family was greatly damaged during the war against Grindelwald. This was in fact the reason for Voldemort's success in the seventies – while liberal(ish) England fought the war against Grindelwald in the forties, losing a great many of their young in the war, conservative England sat back and did nothing. A generation later, when Voldemort started looking for support, he found pure-blood, conservative England in control and happy to assist – or at best, reluctant to fight back.

These days, both the English magical and the Singapore Potter families were reduced to a single nuclear family. The English Potters had lost most of their political influence – something Harry, with the help of Neville and Sue were struggling to correct – though they had managed to keep most of their fortune intact. The Singapore Potters were now an elderly couple with a young daughter, who attended the local university. They were small merchants, having lost most of their commercial and all of their political connections during and after the war. They lived in their old family house, which they found to be too big for their current needs but surprisingly comfortable, clean, and in good shape, in spite of the fact that they lacked the funds normally needed for the maintenance of such a big house. They had thought about moving into a more modest house, but apparently they felt connected to their home and just couldn't make that decision.

Harry vowed to himself to have a word with them before leaving the city, and also to have a word with the Goblins to see that some of the Potter family trade went their way. He also wondered if any other branches of his family were lost/hidden elsewhere around the world.

Occlumency – right!

On his first day in Singapore Harry followed a recommendation he received and went to visit the local botanical gardens. The bloke who gave him the advice suggested that he would like it, but this was an understatement – Harry fell totally and utterly in love! His first visit was at five o'clock in the morning. He was suffering from insomnia, due to jet lag, and decided it would be better to go ahead and start the day than toss and turn in bed for hours. So early in the morning, just before the sun turned the air into soup, the gardens were enchanting. He forced his body into a laboured mile-plus run and then found a secluded bench inside the orchid garden where he could rest and inspect his mind.

When he entered his mind a few sheep ran to him, eager for his greeting. He was already familiar with most of his sheep. There was the worried one, who thought of his friends; beside it was the happy one who also thought of his friends. There was the serious but mischievous sheep, who looked after the other sheep –Harry called this one Shaun. Harry didn't know where this name came from, it just seemed appropriate for some obscure reason. In fact, the only other sheep in his flock that had a name was the little lamb in the corner, whose name was Ron. That sheep was his hunger, and grew quite rapidly just before dinner time. Sometimes it reminded him of the Death Eater's head in the Chamber of Time and made him chuckle. This was the field of his mind – every leaf, every flower was a memory. Every sheep, bunny, or butterfly was a thought. Harry didn't even know how to access his memories by himself any longer. When he needed a memory it would blossom somewhere in his garden and one of his sheep, usually sent by Shaun, would fetch it for him. Harry was sure no one else could find their way around his mind, even if he or she could get in. He was also quite sure that his sheep wouldn't be so accommodating with a stranger, and that Tom would become sick even taking just a peek into Harry's "garden" - it was so full of cheerfulness and love that Tom would suffer from even the slightest of exposure to it. Yet somehow, all of this was useless! Harry had to fix it fast. He just didn't know where to start...

"In some parts of the world it's considered rude to be so loud in public, young master." A voice startled Harry out of his mind. He looked around but saw no one.

"I do wonder how you can live with all that noise yourself, though," the voice added.

Harry got up in haste, looking for the voice. He walked slowly around the garden, holding his hands close to his wands, ready to draw, and trying his best (but failing) to minimise the noise he made while treading on the gravel.

"You are making noise walking _and_ thinking, I can see," said a middle-aged Asian, wearing what looked to be an expensive business suit, just as Harry came around a bush.

"Sir?" Harry just didn't know what to think, or do. The man didn't seam to be hostile, though.

"What are you doing with all those sheep in your mind, in any case?"

"Erm..."

"Mind shield," the man continued. "I have never seen one like yours. Protecting your mind with sheep? Where did you come with _that_ idea?"

"Errr..." Harry was really lost for words and for any idea about what he should do about the man.

"As eloquent as you are silent, I can see," the man remarked dryly.

"Sorry, sir, but just who are you?" Harry finally found his voice.

"Sim Wong Hoo," said the man, and he offered Harry his hand. "New to Singapore?"

"Harry Potter, sir. Just visiting for a couple of week, although I understand my family has some history in this city. I have a nice home downtown that they established years ago."

"A Potter, say you." The man looked pensive for a while. "There was a Potter city clerk here, back at the foundation of the colony. There was a lot of trade going through his family up till the war."

"Well, that war wasn't kind to my family anywhere it found them around the world."

"Planning your family's comeback to the Southeast Asian trade arena?"

"I don't know, sir. I just discovered that my family has some money – and that I have any family at all. I haven't even had a chance to meet them yet."

"Are you not staying at your...?" The man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oh, I understand," he finally said.

"I feel I should do something for them, so probably directing some trade their way is the best way to go."

"Here." The man handed Harry his card. "Talk with me when you make your decision. Maybe we can find a solution that will benefit both of us, and your relatives here in the city as well."

Harry looked at the card and nodded. He noted the logo _Creative_ before he pocketed it. "I'll have to talk with my investment advisor in London. I know nothing about this."

Sim nodded. "Be careful if you are working with that Ironblaze old fool of a Goblin," he said.

"He's a good guy," Harry objected.

"I do not know how good his type can get, or how guy for that matter, but he's lost more than two billion SGD for his clients with his games recently. I hope it was not your money he was playing with."

"What? Yes, my money – no! He lost all that money on purpose?!"

"On purpose? Why would anyone want to lose so much money on purpose? No, do not tell me – I do not want to know. Just tell me this: is he going to play any more of his games here in Singapore?"

"I assure you he isn't playing games, and all the money lost was either mine or belonged to people who can't be described as innocent by any criteria."

"Just please – whatever your reasons are – keep your games away from Singapore. The money markets are sensitive enough these days without you playing around with that kind of money."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad I met you," he said.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter, and enjoy your stay in Singapore." Sim Wong Hoo bowed slightly to Harry and turned to leave, only to stop and turn back. "What do you plan to do about your sheep, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I meant for them to protect my mind, but my mind was just an open book for him," he said, not bothering to clarify just who _HE_ was.

Sim smiled slightly. "You planned for your sheep to keep people out of your mind?"

Harry nodded, frustration clear on his face.

"I am sure they are quite effective at that," Sim said with a slight smile. "I am certain no one will enter your mind – not if he is in his right mind – with all that noise, never mind finding the information that man is looking for. Now, if you will listen to my advice, try and keep your sheep from escaping your mind, and do try to keep them _quiet_!"

Sim Wong Hoo bowed again in goodbye, and turned to go away, leaving a very pensive Harry behind. Very slowly a slight smile crept onto Harry's face. He sat down on the nearby bench and entered his mind once more. In the garden of his mind his sheep rushed to meet him, happy for his return. Shaun gave him the most sheepish of looks, and Ron looked much larger than he had been less than an hour earlier.

"Sorry folks – err, flock. You're being too loud, and we need to put this place a bit more in order." Shaun seemed a little nervous as a brown shepherd's dog with a wristwatch and clipboard in hand appeared next to Harry and blew his whistle. All the sheep immediately went silent, and Shaun looked even more sheepish than ever. "This is Bitzer, and he's gonna help me keep this place in order from now on…."

Fifteen minutes later Harry rose from the bench, ready to make his way back home. As he stood at the gate of the orchid garden a slight, pretty girl in a tight, dark blue training suit jogged past him and flashed him a smile. Life was definitely looking better!

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"Mrs. Potter?"

Harry had gone over this conversation in his head a dozen times, yet he was as unprepared as the moment when he first knew he would have to talk with his relatives in the neighbouring house. He had gone shopping especially for the occasion and now looked like the very definition of a private-school nerd, and felt as uncomfortable. This was as far from his real self as wearing one of Dumbledore's "magician" robes. At least that thought made him chuckle.

The elderly woman at the door nodded cautiously and gave him a questioning look. The only thing that connected her to her family's English heritage was her name. Thinking about it, this _was_ the whole of her English heritage, since she was born a proud daughter of a Chinese merchant family.

"My name is Harry Potter. I would like to meet with you and your husband, if you have the time."

"Do we know you?"

"We've never met, ma'am, but we are somewhat of a family."

The woman nodded and opened the door wider in welcome. She led him to an old armchair in the parlour and offered him a seat.

"Would you mind waiting here for a short while? I need to go and notify my husband so he can get ready for you. We weren't expecting company this evening."

Harry nodded and sat down. The woman walked out of the room through a wide double door at one side. Harry could hear a hushed conversation coming through the closed door. He couldn't make anything of it, but he did hear the name Potter mentioned once or twice. The room around him was very colonial. Comfortable looking couches lined the wood-covered walls; a large staircase led to a wide landing that stretched along three of the room's walls, with a decorated wooden banister running along the front. On the wall opposite the main door hung a portrait of the original owners of the house, Mr. Ethan-Lewis Potter and his lovely wife Olivia. Harry rose from his seat to have a closer look. Ethan, he noticed, was definitely family, with the obligatory spectacles and untameable hair, though his was brown and his eyes blue, as opposed to the brown eyes that were so common with the Potters. _I wonder who his mother was_, Harry found himself thinking. Olivia looked like the epitome of the minor English aristocracy, looking for their fortune in the far lands of the Empire. She was blond, petite, and delicate, but appeared to have a sense of strength and happiness about her; it was as if there was a smile hiding behind her formal posture.

"My ancestors, not that you'll ever believe it," came a voice from behind him.

Harry turned at once, fighting the instinct to reach for his wand.

"You, on the other hand, might just pass as a Potter," said the young Chinese-looking girl who had just walked in through the door. "Nuo," she said as she walked toward him and offered him her hand. "Are you here to see my father?"

"Harry," he said, taking her hand. "Harry Potter, in fact," he added as an afterthought.

Nuo's eyes darted to the portrait above their heads and back to his face. "Figures," was all she said.

Just then an older man walked into the room. "Mr. Potter, my wife says?"

"Harry Potter, sir. It's nice to meet you."

Qiu Potter was a Chinese gentleman, well past middle age. He was a product of the cosmopolitan metropolis of Singapore. His business suit was perfectly tailored, but various aspects of its design offered tribute to his eastern heritage. His English was as perfect as his suit and conduct.

"I don't like to sound stupid, but I have to ask – are we related?"

"Sure we are, Father," Nuo replied, and motioned with her head at the portrait.

"I wasn't aware of any other family members," said Chun. As opposed to her husband, she was dressed in comfortable, traditional home clothes.

"We would have to look back to him," Harry nodded at the portrait, "in order to find it, but yes, we are."

Qiu looked uncomfortable. "Which brings up the question – what brought you here today? As opposed to our family's glorious past, we are not doing as well these days, and if you think that we might support you somehow..."

"You might stay here for a few nights, though. The house is certainly big enough." Chun tried to soften her husband's remark.

"Maybe he wants the house," Nuo said sarcastically.

"What? No! I don't need any money! And I don't need a place to stay, either. I have my own place here, behind yours."

"Now you're lying." Nuo looked disappointed. "There is nothing at the back but the small yard and the river."

The conversation was going badly, and his small mistake hadn't helped. Harry wasn't sure what he could say to correct it, or just how much he _should_ say. "Look, I really don't need money, and I do have a house here. May we sit somewhere and talk?" He stopped for a moment to think and better choose his words. "How much do you know of our family's history?" he finally asked.

"Qui has heard of it, like every single heir of my family, though none of them ever believed it, starting with my own son," came a voice from above.

They all looked, startled, at the portrait of Ethan and Olivia Potter, who were now smiling softly down on them.

Chun sat down heavily, while Qiu looked at the old portrait in shock.

"What is it, Daddy?" Nuo asked with more than a little fear in her voice.

"Magic," he whispered in response.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Harry sat back, letting his hosts converse with their newly found relatives and relearn their family's history. Then Harry showed them his hidden magical house. He explained about the possibility of having a magical child in the family. He also explained that such a child would be able to see the hidden house and would have full access to it from the time he or she was of age. He also told them a little about what had happened to the European part of the family. He told them that now that he knew he had some family, he was about to instruct his business managers to get in touch with them and redirect most of his eastern trade through them. With the help of Ethan Potter, Harry waved Qiu and Nuo's objections aside, explaining that this was not charity by any means. Inheritance law might have prevented them from receiving a share in the family's equity, but there was no reason for them not to earn their due by helping to manage part of that wealth.

It was almost midnight when the Potters were ready to call it a day.

"So, where to now?" Nuo asked.

"To bed?" Harry answered.

"At this time? Are all English guys that boring? Come, I'll take you somewhere fun!"

"Err, right."

"Do you have anything decent to wear?"

After Transfiguring his clothes into several potential outfits, trying for some of the pictures Nuo showed him, to her great amusement, they found themselves in a crowded dance bar, where Nuo had huge fun parading Harry and presenting him as a long-lost relative. It was almost three in the morning when they were ready to walk home. Outside was a tall blond girl, who looked familiar to Harry.

"See you running, in a few hours," she said with a grin just before she entered a cab and disappeared into the night.

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A week passed – early runs in the botanical gardens, Occlumency training in the orchid garden, a smile of encouragement from Mr. Hoo, a cheeky smile from the blond girl, new shirt (or three) on his way home, maybe coffee with Nuo – and all that while, Harry was healing. His legs were now hurting – although for the lack of training rather than due to injuries – his mind was much less noisy and much, _much_ clearer, and mainly, he wasn't afraid any more to think of that battle.

It was late at night and Harry wasn't in a mood to go to bed, so he decided to go out. Twenty minutes of wandering the empty streets found Harry in front of a cheery bar full of young men and women. He walked in and looked for an empty seat.

"May I join you?" he asked a blond girl who sat alone on a sofa.

"Share a bottle of white?"

"Huh?"

"It's a wine bar here, didn't you notice?"

"Sure," he answered, fighting his embarrassment. "Actually, I didn't look. The place seemed cheery enough, so I came in."

"Veronica," she said offering him her hand. "Roni actually," she added.

"Harry, Harry Potter," he answered, taking her hand.

"English?"

Harry nodded with a smile.

"What a small world," she said, her own smile lighting her face.

On the other side of the bar Uma smiled softly to herself; she paid her bill, leaving the barman with a very nice tip, and walked out into the warm night.

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Soft early morning light filtered through the blinds, painting Roni's back with criss-crosses of light and shade. Harry's ear rested on her back, listening to the soft swishing sound his hand made as he caressed her. _That's a nice sound_, was all he could think.

"Mmmmmmm..."

He stopped immediately to look at her.

"That was mmm – _don't_ stop," she moaned, and Harry went back to his work immediately.

She was soft and tender, and there was this wonderful swish of his hand over her skin. He tried to remember just were they were and how he'd got to this place, with this girl – _Roni_, the name came to his mind. He wasn't _that_ drunk the other night. He remembered them laughing in the bar, then walking together out into the night. He remembered the warm rain starting to pelt down on them, and the cab to her grand hotel. Then there was only bliss.

"Plans for the day?"

"Mmm?"

"What do you plan to do today?"

Harry was shaken out of his daydreaming. "As usual – morning run, breakfast, morning meditation, then I don't really know."

"Didn't have to stop that to answer," she complained, and he returned to caressing her back.

"Shopping?"

"Mmm?"

"Would – you – come – shopping – with – me?" she said deliberately.

"Shopping? I'm a bloke!"

"We _are_ in the shopping capital of southeast Asia."

"Might as well give it a try," he shrugged. "Afternoon?"

"Great. I'll wait for you here in the lobby – at four?"

"Sure, it's just – where exactly are we?"

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The next week passed quickly between morning runs, breakfast, Occlumency, then a lot of time pleasantly spent with Roni. They went around the city enjoying sightseeing, art, history, and culture. Together they tasted the local food, from night food markets to sophisticated restaurants. Roni took him dancing and partying, and suddenly Harry discovered that he could have fun and find friends even among people he hadn't known before. He was amazed by Roni's ability to enter a room full of foreign people and immediately find friends to spend her time with.

And of course – there was shopping...

He couldn't grasp how she could do all this and not sleep at night, but ever since he'd practically moved into her hotel room at the Raffles, he hadn't had a full night's sleep – not that he had any reason to complain, mind you. He just used the Time-Turner to get a little sleep later during the day. But Roni didn't have a Time-Turner, did she?

They were strolling, arms round one another, in the warm afternoon towards Fort Cunning Park, not yet ready to go back to the hotel after a long visit to the Singapore art museum.

"Any ideas for tonight?"

"I thought about trying the night safari," Harry offered.

"Might be interesting," Roni agreed. "Shall we stop in the hotel for fresh clothes and go?" she asked, looking at her watch.

Harry shook his head. "I have an important meeting in about an hour and a half. I can meet you later, at eight or so."

"Your family?"

"You might say so," he smiled softly.

"You and your mysterious business in Singapore," she chuckled. "What do you actually do? You're only seventeen aren't you?"

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking about what he could actually tell her. "I lost my family when I was just a child, and just found out about my family's business. I'm trying to learn about our trade here in the city," he finally said.

"Is it interesting?"

"Not very, but it's something I need to understand. I'll tell you more about it later, if you're interested."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll have to do something similar soon enough, but I'm trying to postpone it for as long as I can," she said. "I'm going away in about a week," she added after a long silence.

"Back home?"

She shook her head. "There's a skydiving festival in Alice Springs in a little more than a week's time. I've dreamed of participating ever since I started skydiving," Roni answered, looking much more enthusiastic.

"Skydiving as in jumping out of airplanes?"

"Yes, _that_ skydiving," she answered, grinning.

"Wow! I'd _love_ to try that!"

"So come! Can you?"

"We'll talk about it tonight, all right?" He turned and gave her a small kiss. "Must rush," he said, and he walked away. After a few steps he turned and walked back to her. "Sorry," he said, and he gave her a long, tender kiss that lingered for a few very long seconds. "I needed more."

"There will be more tonight," she said, laughing. "Now go, silly. You'll be late for that important meeting of yours!"

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Harry rose from the armchair he was sitting in when the front door rattled and cracked open. He lit the room with a wave of his hand but took special care not to draw his wand from its holster. This was going to be a complicated meeting even without him looking threatening in any way. The open door revealed a slight, bent figure that limped heavily on his left leg. As soon as he noticed Harry standing in front of him, the man turned – surprisingly quickly for his physical condition – slammed the door shut with his wounded leg, and sent two red curses at Harry from both of the wands he carried. Harry sighed and blocked both curses with a wandless shield.

_So weak_, he thought worriedly.

The figure in front of him kept hurling curses at Harry but was obviously tiring quickly. Harry was tiring too, although more slowly, and he could only deflect the last of the curses, which ricocheted to hit the room's walls and furniture.

"Will you stop destroying your own house, finally?" Harry call in exasperation, after a few long minutes of deflecting magic. "I don't have all night to fix it up!"

A few moments later the figure stopped fighting and just leaned on a wrecked sofa, panting heavily but still pointing one of his wands at Harry. "Where did you get my hair?" he asked-stated.

_I don't remember being _that _wounded_, Harry thought, shaking his head slightly. "No hairs, but I have something better," he said, and he took the Time-Turner out of his pocket, holding it in front of him for the – _Other? Younger? Wounded? oh, never mind that!_ – Harry to see.

The new Harry watched the Time-Turner warily. "The rules say you can't be seen," he stated. "I could have killed you – me – you know what I mean!"

"Unless I've already been seen, in which case I shouldn't do anything to change what I know to have happened," Harry answered, smiling slightly.

"But..."

"Never mind!" Harry cut – _himself?_ – up. He slowly took out his backup wand with his left hand and carefully tried to repair the sofa. Harry wasn't the best Transfiguration wizard at the best of times, and certainly not with a backup wand and his weak hand, so the sofa only sorted itself into a somewhat crooked state, much to the younger Harry's amusement.

"You're definitely me," he said.

"Enough with that cheek and have a seat. It pains me to even look at me. Now listen – in a moment, when you've rested enough to walk without falling, you'll go through those doors and take a Time-Turner trip back a couple of weeks. You have lots to do and not much time to do it. Here's a little Pepper-Up potion. Do you feel better?"

Younger Harry nodded thankfully. He put his wands away, sighed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Harry gave him his hand to help.

"Can you walk?"

Young Harry nodded, albeit a little uncertainly, and walked slowly towards the noted doors.

"Hey!" Harry called. "Three more things. Go see the botanical gardens – you'll like them! In about a week's time you'll have half a bottle of wine and be in a position to do a very stupid thing – don't hesitate too much! And last – the bedroom is up the stairs, last room on the right. I don't think you're strong enough to go looking for it."

"Thanks!" young Harry said, and he walked thorough the doors.

Harry waited for a minute, then waved his hand and grinned as young Harry peeked through the crack in the door. The door shut again immediately. Another minute later Harry walked through the double doors into the empty living room.

"Right, then – let's clean up the place."

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It was Sunday morning, ten days after Roni has left. Harry decided to stay at Singapore for another two weeks, before going back in time and joining her for Australia. He still needed the time to train.

Harry stood near his fireplace thumbing through an old Floo directory and pondering whether to go knock on Nuo's door and ask her out for breakfast, or ask the old elf for something and have a (very) long soak in the bath. He was surprised that the two options were identically appealing to him. After a while he became aware of two distinct feelings – the first was that he was missing something important; the other was that he had seen something familiar. Taking a better look at the notebook in his hand, he noticed that it was the personalized Floo directory for Southeast Asia from the year 1827. Apparently someone had highlighted some addresses that he now found interesting. Harry flipped through the directory once more, taking note of the highlighted addresses and looking for any that seemed familiar. He stopped and smiled as he noticed the name Weasley. It seemed he wasn't the first Potter to be on friendly terms with the Weasley family. He lost his smile when he noticed the rest of the address – Hong-Kong! Seconds later, without even a look at his watch, he threw a large pinch of powder into the fire.

"The Burrow!"

Harry wasn't prepared for what followed. First he received an earful from Molly for waking her in the middle of the night for no good reason. Truth be told, Harry hadn't thought of the time or considered the time difference between Singapore and England. He apologized and wanted to extinguish the Floo intending to call back later, but Molly was only starting. She gave him an endless lecture about being inconsiderate in times when people were constantly worried and afraid of bad news. Next, she went on about putting her family in danger and getting her precious daughter wounded. Never mind that it hadn't been Harry's idea for the whole Weasley family to go to the trials, and neither was Ginny really wounded. It was more like a little scratch, especially in comparison to those who'd really got wounded like Hermione, Sue, and Harry himself – not that there was any importance in the severity of the injury a certain person suffered. There was no dispute that Ginny _had _put herself in grave danger when she decided to help Hermione storm the Death Eaters in the Atrium.

It took almost forty minutes for Molly to wind down and extinguish the call from her side, sadly - without calling Arthur to the fire. Harry sighed and resolved to try Arthur in the morning – _English_ morning – at work.

Almost an hour later, Winky appeared at his side. She stayed only long enough to give him a cell phone and then disappeared once more. Seconds later the phone rang, with a frantic Hermione on the other end. It took Harry almost half an hour to assure her that even though something _was_ _up_, there was no emergency and it could wait till (English) morning. Apparently, once Molly had finished scolding Harry she had hurried and Floo-called Grimmauld Place to complain about him to Bill. She woke everyone in the house and lectured Bill for what seemed like an eternity about his dangerous friends and about how impolite and inconsiderate Harry was to wake her up like he had, in the middle of the night, frightening her as he had, and about the fact that she wanted her baby girl to come back home that very moment.

The thing was that Molly had no idea what the reason was that had made Harry call the Burrow at that hour of the night. It was then that Hermione decided that the only reason for Harry to call so late was that he was in some kind of danger and needed help. She wasn't persuaded when Ginny argued that If Harry really needed help, he would have Floo-called Grimmauld Place directly. Hermione insisted on finding a way to contact Harry immediately, hence Winky and the mobile phone – thank Merlin for GSM roaming.

That evening Arthur, Bill, and Hermione sat in Harry's living room and discussed their plans for the coming day. There was no reason for Hermione to be there; she jumped on the international Portkey in order to deal with something she felt was important that had come up, and because she missed her friend. Arthur knew of no Weasley family in Hong-Kong, but they planned to investigat the next morning. For now, Arthur was on his way to bed to sleep out the jet-lag, Hermione was on her way back home, and Bill was anxious to have a taste of Singapore's night life.

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"How are you doing?"

Just a shrug.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

"Better," she said finally. "I miss you, though. Luna's helping."

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm worried about you, too," she said after a while, a shred of a smile appearing from behind the tears. "Now we need to stop being silly – I have a Portkey to catch."

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The trip to Hong Kong was strange, for lack of a better word. They tried the Floo, without too much hope, and were not surprised to find it disconnected. Without other options, they took the long way – The Floo to Changi international terminal, then International Portkey to HK international (_God, I hate Portkeys!_). Then they took the Floo to HK Ministry, where they spent the rest of the morning queuing in front of various officials' doors. It was obvious that the Hong-Kong Ministry was in total disarray because of the recent change of sovereignty over the islands. Finally they located an address registered in the name of Weasley. It was clear to them that they had no chance at all to get a Portkey there, from the chaos that was the HK Ministry of Magic, so they went outside to stop a Muggle cab.

"It's quite nice!" Arthur said in surprise.

Harry just nodded.

"Shouldn't there be more room for the legs?"

"Nope, that's about it in the back seat. This car is actually quite spacious."

"It's a bit cramped for the three of us..."

"It's only for a short drive," Harry assured him.

"Why is he always stopping behind the other cars?"

"Why don't you just look at the view out of the window? We'll be there soon enough," Harry said, avoiding Bill's look so he wouldn't start laughing.

"These Muggles are amazing!" Arthur sighed, grinning.

After a short drive and ferry ride they found themselves in front of a little old house by the river bank. The cab driver couldn't locate the address, but by that time he was more than willing to drop them off there, apparently in the middle of nowhere, and he drove away muttering to himself.

"The wards here are only basic," Bill said after a short examination of the place and a walk around. "Muggle Repelling, Notice-Me-Not, simple boundary alarm – that's about it."

"Should we cross it?"

Arthur tried a notification spell, the Wizarding equivalent of knocking on the door, with no reply. "We came all the way here – we might as well," he shrugged. He crossed the ward line, and – nothing happened.

A simple Alohomora did nothing to the locked door. Arthur tried a similar spell Harry didn't recognize, and the door opened silently.

"It's the Weasley special unlocking spell," Bill explained. "Kind of a Weasley master key."

Arthur tried to move forward but was stopped by Bill, who took the lead into the deserted house, constantly waving his wand in front of him. The house lit as soon as Bill entered, but despite all Bill's wand waving there was nothing to discover. It was just an empty house, with little decoration and very few books. They searched the house but found no information regarding its former owners, nor did they find any portraits that might have helped with such information. The only lead they could find was an old Floo directory scroll, where they located the address "Weasley manor, England".

"Weasley manor?"

Arthur looked at his son. "There were always rumours, but I thought them nothing but dreams of a poor family about lost riches."

"Well, we're not dreaming and this house is certainly a Weasley one, according to the locking spell."

"We can probably look for this house's registration in the local Ministry records," Harry remarked.

"Sure," Arthur agreed. "As soon as they manage to put themselves back together."

"Well, nothing else to do here. Let's clean the place a little, leave a note on the table, put the locking spell back on, and find our way back to civilization."

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Harry had just said his goodbyes to Arthur and Bill. He stood in his room at the Potter house and had a new and exiting feeling – He missed Roni! Normally he should have waited for another couple of days of training, before joining her.

_Sod it!_

With a wave of his wand, all of his possessions were packed, shrunk and stored in his pocket. A turn of a dial took him ten days back. Outside his room he could hear the sound of someone – probably he himself, climbing up the stairs. Harry smiled, and Disapparated to join his girlfriend.

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Alice Springs international skydiving festival was a bit of a misleading name, since the fair actually took place at an abandoned military airbase some two hundred miles to the south of the desert city. Once every other year, in the middle of the winter, the godforsaken concrete strip transformed into a colourful, lively collection of young people, airplanes, parachutes, music, and endless rivers of beer.

The fair campground was quite quiet till noonish, when people appeared out of their tents and cars and sacks and started looking for breakfast. Soon enough jumpers started to gather into small groups, small aircrafts screamed into the clear sky, and the sky itself filled with colourful canopies. Later in the evening, large screens showed footage from the various contests which had taken place earlier in the day. Later on the music started, and the beer flowed deep into the night.

Harry let himself drift around following Roni, who seemed to know everyone worth knowing, and many others who just seemed to be nice people. A few times she took care to introduce Harry to her acquaintances; more often she just exchanged a hug and a kiss and drifted on.

"**Roni!**"

Roni turned around, let out a scream, and ran to embrace a chubby older man who stood beside a small aircraft, dressed in a colourful jumpsuit.

"Dave, you old bastard, haven't seen you since Marseilles, two years ago. You look good!"

"Our favourite pommy, did_ I_ miss you. Still taking the sky, I see."

"Starting Uni next month, so that's my last chance to have _real_ fun before I turn into a pumpkin. Tell me, are they going for the record this year?"

"Yeah. They always need to do it bigger. I just hope no one karks it trying. Six months ago Ko-Samui had a crack at 400, but three jumpers got tangled up and only two made it with the spare. I don't know, Ron. People get so obsessed with the record that they tend to forget it's harder to break formation than get into one."

"Is there a place for me?" she enthused.

"Sure, Ron. There's always a spot for you in my group, if you like. Come to the main hangar at eleven tomorrow for preparation. We'll go train jumping in the afternoon and the next morning, if you can handle a night without amber."

"Sure, I'll do anything for that jump."

By then Harry had moved closer and was looking at her with a questioning expression.

"Oh right, Dave, this is Harry, he's with me. Harry, this is Dave – he practically taught me what _real_ skydiving is all about."

"How do you do." Harry politely offered his hand to Dave.

"G'day," Dave said, grinning, and he clapped Harry on the shoulder, shaking him to his bones. "Come to take to the sky?"

Harry felt his shrunken Firebolt, which he held in his pocket. "Never tried it before, but I'd love to give it a try."

"Hey, can't have one of Ron's friends not trying for the sky, can we? Why don't you take him to the tunnel, and if he gets the hang of it I'll take him up in the morning. What do you reckon, mate?" he asked, turning to Harry.

"The tunnel?"

Roni laughed cheerfully. "Come on," she said. "I'll get him ready for you by the morning," she told Dave.

Harry let Roni lead him to a round construction, where a crowd was cheering for a girl dressed in colourful suit who seemed to be floating in the air.

"Come, we need to suit you up." Roni took him below deck and handed him one of the colourful suits and a pair of goggles, which looked a bit like a modern version of his Quidditch goggles. "Go on, suit up!" she ordered. "She finishes in a couple of minutes." A few minutes later he was standing on a platform, watching as a man reached for the floating girl and pulled her, giggling, back to the platform.

"Your turn," Roni stated. "This thing simulates free-falling. It's used for getting used to the feel of free-falling and to work on the diver's equilibrium in the air. All you have to do is jump over the hole in the platform and try to keep your balance in the air. Right?"

"Err, right..."

Harry jumped forward hesitantly and was promptly pushed back by the wind, which caused him to land on the platform, on his behind, staring up at Roni.

_Right then, let's try it again..._

His second jump was a bit too enthusiastic. Harry was surprised by the wind, which turned him over and threw him to the platform on the other side of the hole. The watching crowd broke into laughter as Harry stood up shakily and waved with some embarrassment.

"Easy on, mate!" someone called.

_Yeh – easy..._

His next try took him just over the middle of the hole, and Harry was surprised by the force of the wind once more. For a few long seconds he just hovered there, trying to understand what was holding him in the air.

"Good work, Harry," he heard Roni call.

The crowd made sounds of approval. "We'll make a skydiver out of him yet, Ron!" someone called, which made everyone laugh again.

_This is really fun_, Harry thought. _Just like falling off a broom_. Falling off a broom he could most definitely do. This was actually better than falling off his broom, since there wasn't the whole The-Ground-Is-Coming-At-Me-Quickly factor, which was a considerable limiting factor on the fun derived from broom-falling incidents.

_Let's try something else_. Harry levelled himself into the position used to slow down the fall and found to his delight that the wind carried him even higher into the air. _Now let's dive!_ Harry lowered his head into the wind and immediately fell rapidly towards the ground.

_Whoa!_

He threw his hands out and levelled himself in a desperate effort to slow himself down. Much to his surprise, the wind carried him back up in the air. _Again!_ His mind shouted at him, and Harry lowered his head into the wind once more. Diving he could most definitely do! The encouraging noises from the crowd grew louder as Harry's dives got cleaner and more precise and daring.

_Let's try something else_, he thought. Slowly he lowered his head into the wind and turned into his favourite corkscrew motion, which grew faster and faster as he gained confidence. The crowd was first shocked into silence, but the cheering grew louder and louder as Harry's motion became more rapid; but this was no broom, and he lacked the forward thrust he was used to. A small change in his posture drove Harry into an uncontrolled spiral motion and threw him far out into the safety nets surrounding the tunnel.

"Harry!" Roni cried. She rushed to check on him. "Are you hurt? What were you thinking? You've been wonderful! Are you sure that was your first time?"

Harry wasn't fully healed yet, and the fall had hurt a bit, but he'd been wounded enough times in the past to identify a real injury and this wasn't one. "I'm fine, just a bit bruised," he said, "and I'm still not sure what this thing is, though it sure is fun."

"Come," she said. "Let's get you a prize for that performance of yours." She pulled him off the platform to the cheering sounds of the crowd. The cheering got louder when a girl with some kind of a board connected to her feet took his place and started a complicated dance of turns and rolls which she performed with ease, grace, and well-practiced comfort.

Not far from the tunnel they met Dave, who stood watching the girl's acrobatics as he waited for them. "Jody from Cairns," he remarked as they reached him. "She has a good shot at the Skysurfing title tomorrow afternoon. I'm surprised she's taking the risk here today, but that's youth for you. You don't know you should be afraid to take risks, so you're able to reap the big prizes," he said looking thoughtful. "Got yourself a legend, aye, Ron? See you in the morning," he added, and he moved off into the crowd.

The next morning Harry was surprised by the metamorphosis Roni had gone through. Gone was the careless girl with the happy-go-lucky attitude, and in its place was calm precision. First she refolded her chutes under Dave's scrutiny; she then listened without a word to Dave's instructions for Harry. The instructions were elaborate, but could be shortened to the following: "I know what I'm doing, so relax, follow my lead, and enjoy the ride." Finally they suited up, with Dave going over Roni's gear and Roni checking over Dave's and Harry's. Minutes later their little aircraft was soaring into the lightly clouded sky.

"I envy you a little," Roni whispered into Harry's ear as she held his hand. "There's nothing like your first time, and you still have a chance at a first solo, if you'd like it."

"Right, time to go," Dave called. He slid the door open and secured Harry's suit to his. "Don't worry, I'm not going to push you out, but I will try and _persuade_ you If you're too reluctant," he said, grinning.

"I'll be jumping right after you, and I'll keep a position facing you in the air."

"It'll be great, mate," Dave said as they approached the plane's open door. "No bloody worries, aye?"

"One," Harry heard Dave counting. "Two..." and Harry jumped. Harry was obviously not afraid from the sky. He had both his wands and his Firebolt shrunk in his pocket. Nothing bad could happen to him out there in the morning air. The dodgy aircraft, on the other hand, made him feel uneasy...

Freedom! In front of him he could see Roni approaching them, shouting in joy, with which he could fully identify. She reached out and he took her hands. They turned slowly in the air, watching the desert view and the drop-zone and airstrip below them. Far out on the horizon a round mountain rose out of the plain red desert.

"We're trying for that large cross to the right of the strip. In a moment I'll open the chute and you'll just hang, look around, and let me direct us there," Dave called from behind. Roni let go of Harry's hand and drifted away, waving to him. He felt a pull on his straps; the downward rush stopped and a colourful canopy bloomed above their heads. Roni flew past them for a few seconds before her chute opened too, and they all glided down towards the big white cross on the round.

"Nicely done, mate!" Dave disconnected himself from Harry after they landed and went on to collect his parachute from the ground. "It's been a while since I jumped with someone so eager to get out of the plane, and that chap wasn't that mentally balanced. It was fun. Ron, I'll see you later today for the first group meeting and practice," he said, and went away.

"You really love it up there," Harry remarked, watching Roni smile as she collected her chute.

"I really do," she answered, snuggling into his arms and kissing him lengthily. "There's a kind of freedom there that I can't find anywhere else. An Israeli guy once told me that scuba diving is very similar in that respect, but I haven't had the chance to try it for myself yet."

"You looked as if you were glowing with happiness up there," he whispered to her.

"I don't know about glowing, but happiness is something I desperately need these days."

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"Here, mate, have a stubbie holder. I tell you, you Poms shame all beer drinkers worldwide. A beer must be _cold_ for you to really enjoy it, and you can't really keep it cold unless you use the holder," one of the guys told Harry, and thrust another beer into his hand. "And here's tea for you, hen fruit, fried potatoes and snags, just like breakfast and lunch, but without the sun in the sky."

There was laughter around.

Lately Harry had been introduced into the Australian concept of the Shout. They had been driving for a day now to Dave's place, which was said to be "just down the road" to the south, and stopped at a town along the highway for the pub. Never mind that the "highway" was actually a gravel track and that the "town" consisted of no more than twenty small houses. As soon as they entered the pub, a stubby was thrust into Harry's hand by one of the guys.

"No worries, mate – my shout," he said, clapping Harry on his shoulder, and he went back to the lively conversation going on about how they'd _almost_ got the world record the other day, and what a _miracle_ it was that the chap whose chute hadn't opened got away with only a few broken limbs. Harry made an effort to stir the conversation away from that subject, but it was a futile effort. The story made headlines in papers around the world and was going to be the talk of the skydiving community for years to come. Harry was glad to get away from the fairgrounds before a certain kind of people came to investigate.

Harry didn't want to be in debt, so he took care to buy the next round of drinks; he was quite content nursing his first beer and staying off to the side. About ten minutes later someone tried to hand him another stubbie and was shocked to discover that he hadn't finished the first one yet.

"Mate, what's wrong with ya?" the man asked in genuine concern.

"I'm fine, just not used to so much alcohol is all."

"Got yourself a bloody piker, aye, Ron?" one of the girls called pleasantly.

"Can't have one of those here," laughed another girl. "Here, finish yours up and get this one. Quick – it's getting warm out of the holder. My shout!"

By the time they left the pub and drove on, looking for a place to camp for the night, Harry was properly – and for the first time in his life – drunk. He just couldn't resist the friendly pub-goers. Maybe it was the fact that not having another drink was getting him even more attention from everyone around. Or maybe it was their smiles. Somehow he got the feeling that people in Australia smiled more than any other people he had ever met, or maybe he was keeping the wrong company back home – in that respect, at least.

Now he and Roni were lying with their new friends around a small fire in the bush, cuddled together under a sleeping bag, looking up to the night sky.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Shame you have to travel so far to enjoy it."

Harry hugged her closer.

"Do you know about the stars?"

He nodded. "They teach it to us in my school, but this is my first time to see the southern sky for myself."

"The stars remind me of my father," she whispered. "He was an astronomy enthusiast and always took me with him whenever there was something special in the stars to watch. How do you handle it?" she asked after a long silence. "I miss them _so_ very much!"

"I don't know, Roni. I was little more than a year old when my parents died. People always tell me how wonderful they were and how much I look like them, but I didn't know them and I have almost no recollection of living with them.

"The pain is so raw, I sometimes need all that I have just to hold myself together," Roni murmured.

"How did they die?" Harry knew this was a painful subject so he'd waited for her to bring it up, but now he felt that she needed to talk to someone about it.

"Four months back. They both got that disease that put people into comas and left them to fade for weeks till their death. One night I went to bed early. I was awakened by a nightmare. I went downstairs to the living room and found it full of that vile fog that plagued England until few weeks ago, and my parents staring straight ahead with no spark in them. The doctors didn't know how to treat them and still have no idea what it was all about, with all those people getting sick all around the country. Now I have to go on with my life. I asked my trust manager if I could take a year off but he insists that I go straight to the Uni and start 'putting my life back together'. I just don't know if I can do that..."

Harry didn't know what to say, or whether he should say anything at all. He just held her even closer, and comforted her until she was ready to speak again.

"Make love to me? I need to feel alive!"

Harry looked around reluctantly.

"Don't mind them," she said, starting to pull off his shirt. "They're either asleep or minding their own business."

Harry had to admit that she was probably right. Just for his peace of mind, however, he casted a Silencing and Notice-Me-Not charms around the two of them before he returned his full attention to the beautiful girl in his arms.

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"I talked to Claire and she's willing to let me take you up by myself early tomorrow morning. She said it's not the age but the skill that counts, and we're in the middle of nowhere anyway. I want us to do something special for the end of this summer."

It was a few days before their flight back, and the awareness of the end of their vacation was in the air. Roni insisted on Harry changing his "flight schedule" to correspond with hers. This made the Goblins busy, and Harry a bit nervous – the former because of the need to prepare the appropriate paper trail to enable Harry to leave Australia and enter old England, even though he had never formally entered or left, respectively, and the latter because Harry didn't know what would happen to a modern passenger jet if he became upset during the flight and his magic spiked. Also, Harry wanted to continue his relationship with Roni, so he needed to tell her at least some of his secrets. Maybe this was an opportunity.

Once again Harry was amazed by Roni's meticulous sub-personality as he watched her prepare and double-check their gear. They both suited up and let Claire go over their gear.

"I'll drop you over the reservoir. It's the prettiest morning jump around here," she called over the noise of the engine. "Get ready!"

Roni slid open the door and at Claire's call they were out.

"Harry!"

He turned his head to look at Roni and was met with a tender kiss.

"I love you!" she said into his ear, and she opened the chute early. "Sorry, I want this to last."

"I love you, too," he chuckled. "I need to tell you something – well, show you, actually. Do you remember the guide?"

Earlier, when they still were in Singapore, she'd bought him _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ to read.

"What, you mean to tell me you're not from Guildford, Surrey?" she said in mock horror.

"I _am_ from Surrey actually – Don't Panic!"

He took his broom from his pocket and enlarged it. With his other hand he drew out his wand and with a swish of his hand the parachute's strings were cut.

"**Harry, you crazy bastard!" **Roni pulled to open the spare, but they were in a bad position and it got tangled all around them. It did manage to knock the broom out of Harry's hand. A few swishes of his wand later and they were free of the spare, too. Now they had neither a parachute nor a broom.

"**Don't panic, I said!**" Harry shouted. "_Accio_ Broom!" he called, pointing his wand at the broom, which was now falling in the air far below them.

Nothing happened, since racing brooms were charmed against summoning while in the air. That was to stop the opposite players or audience from summoning the players' brooms out from underneath them during the game. According to _Quidditch Through the Ages_, this was a common misshap back in the days when the Arrows' fans were still shooting metal arrows at the air and at the other team as a means of cheering their squad, Harry recalled bitterly. Now _he _was starting to panic. He imagined a bleat and a recollection of his first flying lesson flashed in his mind. "**Up!**" he called, and seconds later the Firebolt was back in his outstretched hand. Harry sighed in relief. He mounted the broom and seconds later they were soaring back up to the sky.

"Roni?" he asked after a long silence.

"You almost _killed _us!"

"Err – not really."

"What's this thing?"

"My broom?"

"No, stupid bloke! How does it fly?"

"That's because it's a racing broom, and because I'm a wizard?" Harry answered hesitantly.

"Don't give me that nonsense, Harry."

"No! It's God's honest truth – look!" He conjured a red rose and passed it back to her. He still wasn't the best of Transfiguration students, so the rose fell apart almost as soon as Roni took it hesitantly from his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Not my strongest field of magic."

"Don't take your hands off that thing!" she cried, noticing that he'd taken his hands off the broomstick in order to conjure the rose.

"What? Afraid of heights?" he asked her in mock concern.

"Oh hush, you," she answered and swatted him on the back of his head.

"Here," he smirked, "let me show you what diving from the sky is all about," and Harry pointed the broom downward.

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A long AN:

First – I received some creative (a little harsh though ;-) ) criticism saying that the former chapters were not up to my usual standards – language wise. I went through the beta process for chapters 17 and 18 once more, only to find that the criticism was indeed in place.

It now makes a much easier read now, and you might like to go over it again.

No changes were made to the storyline.

Secondly – here is the new chapter. Once again – the longest ever.

Finally – the net chapter will probably take a wile. About a month ago I got into a nasty motorcycle accident. I'm getting better, but I'm sad to say that the time healing threw me out of my writing rhythm. I'm getting better, and I'll try to go back writing, but it may take a little while more. Also, my computer was involved in the same accident as me, and was sadly deceased. This is the main reason for the delay on the posting of this chapter. Fortunately, it's much easier to buy a new computer, then a new ankle...

Finally – please _please_ review!? I have a very decent number of readers, but so very few reviews. It makes it harder for me to notice where I can do better. I do need your help here!

Thanks!

Niv


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